


Nova initia – New Beginnings

by SugarMcGundy



Series: In Loco Parentis [3]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Family, Gen, Medical Procedures, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-28 21:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7656574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarMcGundy/pseuds/SugarMcGundy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two tours of the Gulf, a Silver Star and numerous Navy Meritorious Civilian Service Awards spoke volumes about the man, but would it prepare him for life with a special needs child?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third story in my In Loco Parentis series. 
> 
> Please be aware that this is a Tony kidfic and, consequently, it is very AU. Some familiar characters appear in unfamiliar roles – such is the power of an AU fic. If this is not your "cup of tea" go no further and let's part as friends.
> 
> The initial chapter will contain a recap and, as my little Tony character has some serious medical issues, there is quite a bit of set up to do. I hope you enjoy the story. SMcG

Regretting his decision to brave the weather without an umbrella, Doctor Donald Mallard shook the rain from his hat and Mackintosh and wiped his glasses dry with a fine linen handkerchief. The journey across the hospital's large open foyer felt all too familiar as he hurried into the elevator and pressed the button to the paediatric ward.

Although fate had not seen fit to bestow parenthood upon him, Ducky had always found the paediatric ward to be a special mix of immeasurable heartache and soul-restoring inspiration. When it came to eight year-old Anthony DiNozzo, those feelings were never far from the surface.

A shudder ran down the ME's spine as he recalled the near-fatal injury the boy had suffered when two gunmen forced their way into his family home and brutally murdered his father. Only four months earlier, the child had tragically lost his mother to a devastating illness leaving his estranged uncle, Nicholas DiNozzo, as his only living relative.

Despite the fact that the child had suffered serious, physical and psychological impairment, Ducky's long-time friend, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, formed a deep affection for the boy and petitioned for custody. Upon DiNozzo's return to Washington a preliminary hearing was held and guardianship of the boy was awarded to his uncle.

DiNozzo immediately made plans to take the child back to Switzerland and have him admitted to a rehabilitation facility where he could leave his nephew's care to paid professionals while he laid claim to Tony's considerable inheritance. Only a mammoth effort by the MCRT prevented that from happening when they uncovered that Nicholas DiNozzo had orchestrated the murder of his brother. With DiNozzo awaiting trial, temporary custody had been awarded to Gibbs who declared his intention to leave NCIS and become the boy's full-time carer.

Showing resilience and courage that belied his young age, Tony's condition had improved considerably but the serious gunshot wound and massive blood loss left him confined to a wheelchair and diagnosed with acquired epilepsy. The boy's progress during the last two months had been an ongoing series of 'one agonising step forward and two frustrating steps back' and as the length of Tony's hospital stay dragged on with no end in sight, tensions were running at an all-time high.

Stepping from the elevator, Ducky made his way toward Tony's room, taking a peek into the brightly coloured bag he carried. He gave a nod of satisfaction at the hard-covered copy of  _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer._ He'd purchased the gift for his young friend and was delighted that the boy appeared to share his passion for the classics. Stopping at the door to Tony's room, his eyes darted to the bed where the child appeared to be sleeping peacefully – the same could not be said for his temporary guardian who was currently pacing the room like a caged tiger.

"Jethro?" Ducky said quietly, in deference to the sleeping child.

Dispensing with the usual greeting, Gibbs snatched up Tony's medical chart.

"Eighteen minor and three majors seizures in the last 24 hours," he said. "The last grand mal was thirteen minutes."

"Oh dear," Ducky replied with genuine disappointment. "To be fair, many of those seizures occurred when the lad was sleeping and lasted less than a minute. However, I do agree that this new anti-seizure medication appears to be as ineffective as the others."

"Ya think, Duck?" Gibbs snapped, running agitated fingers through his hair. "You sure these guys know what they're doing."

"Now, Jethro, I know you're frustrated but you know as well as I that treating epilepsy is not an exact science. There is so much we still don't know about the function of the human brain. Doctors McNally and Enright are leaders in this field; Anthony is in the best possible hands."

Gibbs nodded begrudgingly and dropped heavily into a chair by Tony's bed as Ducky took a seat beside him.

"How did he seem when he regained consciousness?"

"Confused, exhausted…frightened," Gibbs replied. "S'been asleep for over an hour."

"We've witnessed from prior incidences, that the more severe Anthony's seizures, the deeper and more prolonged the postictal phase."

"He's had enough of hospitals, Duck," he said, reaching for Tony's lax hand. "We both have."

"The lad's been through a dreadful ordeal; more than any child should have to bear. It's a testament to his young character that he's not shouted his frustration from the rooftops."

"Kid doesn't complain about anything," Gibbs said, gently brushing the bangs from Tony's forehead. "Gets quiet; draws into himself then comes out ready to fight again."

"He's a remarkable boy."

"I need to take him home, Duck."

"Perhaps I can help you with that," a voice from the doorway commented.

"Jennifer, how nice to see you," Ducky greeted cordially.

Mindful of the sleeping boy, the men moved to the doorway as the hospital's chief social worker, Jenny Shepard, produced an envelope from the file she was carrying.

"This just arrived," she said handing the envelope to Gibbs. "I thought I'd deliver it personally."

The agent eyed the envelope warily. Removing the letter, he read its contents and his usually perfect posture slumped with relief.

"Congratulations, Jethro," Jenny said, unable to suppress her smile any longer. "You have successfully completed your foster carer's course and the home-safety visit surpassed all Child Services' requirements. As soon as Tony is well enough, you can take him home."

"This is splendid news!" Ducky enthused. "Heartiest congratulations, my friend!"

Gibbs ran minutely trembling fingers across his heavily bristled jaw; he reread the letter and looked hopefully at Tony's caseworker.

"It's done?"

"Judge Harland has approved custody and placed Tony in your full-time care. You've got yourself a foster son," Jenny told him with genuine delight. Her smile transformed into a frustrated scowl as her pager sounded and she read the digital message. "I have to run. I'm afraid there's more paperwork for you to sign...call me and we'll make a time…and give Tony a hug for me."

Gibbs was still trying it take it all in as Jenny walked quickly down the corridor and out of sight.

"Gibbs?" a little voice called from the bed.

"Hey," Gibbs said moving quickly to Tony's side and brushing the dishevelled blonde hair back from the boy's face. "Howya feeling?"

Blinking sleepily, Tony sighed wearily.

"I had another seizure," he said glumly.

"Yep," Gibbs replied, trying to keep the concern out of his voice.

"A big one?"

"Big enough," Gibbs responded.

Tony studied the former gunny's face, sensing more than seeing the change in the man's mood. His brow furrowed in confusion.

"Is something wrong?" he asked tentatively. "Am I in trouble?"

"Nope," he replied flashing a rare unbridled smile. "Nothing's wrong and you're not in trouble."

Tony's frown deepened and his shoulders tensed as Gibbs and Ducky continued to beam at him. The lead agent held up the letter and explained.

"See this?" he said waiting for the blonde head to nod. "It says, as soon as you're feeling better, you can come live with me."

The little jaw dropped open.

"Really?" he whispered, his green eyes filling with unshed tears.

"You bet," Gibbs replied around the lump in his throat. "That's if you still want to."

Little arms flung around the agent's neck and squeezed with all the strength the small boy could muster.

"I believe that's a yes," Ducky chuckled.

Watching the touching scene play out before him, the ME's spirits soared. As chief medical examiner, death and despair dominated his working life on a daily basis yet, despite it all, Ducky marvelled at the wonders of a world that saw fit to unite a childless father and a fatherless child.

Pulling back from the embrace, Tony turned his face upward to meet Gibbs' gaze.

"When, Gibbs? When can I come home? Today?" he asked as the tear spilled from his eyes and streamed down his face.

The words tugged at the former Marine's heart and as he gently wiped the boy's tears away with the pads of his thumbs the boy stilled in his arms and the all-too-familiar vacant stare appeared in the glistening green eyes. Gibbs exchanged a glance with Ducky and both acknowledged another absence seizure. The ME had barely enough time to record the details in Tony's seizure diary when the boy recovered and repeated the question.

"When, Gibbs? When can I come home? Today?" he asked, completely unaware of what had happened.

"Soon as the doc says you're better," he said, watching as Tony's head dropped dejectedly. He slipped a finger under the boy's chin and raised it until their eyes met again. "You're doing great, Sport. Abs will be planning your 'gotcha party' before you know it."

Tony slumped back against the pillows, turning his face away to hide his disappointment. Gibbs shifted in his chair, remaining quiet and watching as the boy lost his battle with exhaustion. He waited until Tony was on the cusp of sleep before he leaned forward and gently rubbed his knuckles on the boy's cheek.

"Gonna take you home with me, Sport," he whispered. "No matter how long it takes."

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Despite Gibbs' being awarded custody, the inability to control Tony's seizures with medication had frustrated and terrified them both. Every night, the former Gunny resumed his vigil by the boy's bed; his heart skipping a beat with every murmur, sigh or restless movement Tony made in his sleep. Even the presence of the EEG and seizure monitor alarm brought little comfort.

During the past two months, Gibbs had frequently been amazed by the courage shown by this small boy. After each new setback, Tony had mentally dusted himself off and determinedly continued the fight to regain his health…but this time was different. The boy was quiet and listless; terrified that the slightest movement would trigger another seizure. For the first time, Tony began to doubt that he would ever leave the hospital.

Gibbs and his team did their level best to reassure and encourage him and while Tony responded politely when spoken to, his lack of conviction concerned them all. Losing hope that he would ever go home, the little boy had started to withdraw from them. Tony had fought too hard and been through too much for the former Marine to let that happen – so he had called in the big guns.

On the third day after the grand mal seizure, Gibbs watched as a very subdued boy sat in his wheelchair and poked at his breakfast without interest or appetite. Too much pain, too much grief and too many days confined to a hospital ward had resulted in an unnatural pallor that highlighted the tiny freckles on the bridge of his nose and the fringe of long dark lashes framing his green eyes. The agent heard the familiar voice approaching from down the corridor and checked his watch – right on time.

"I gotta go meet your doctor," Gibbs said quietly, waiting until the boy looked in his direction. "I got someone to sit with you…I bet he'd enjoy reading your new book."

Tony nodded his head and shrugged one shoulder dispassionately.

"Well now, I was kinda hoping for a warmer welcome than that," Jackson Gibbs stated from the doorway.

Green eyes grew as large as saucers and the dimples that had been conspicuously absent for the last few days, made a welcome appearance as the small face lit up with surprise. Jack returned a matching grin as he placed a parcel on the end of Tony's bed. Propping on his cane, he made his way over to the boy and enveloped him in a Grandpa-sized hug. Overwhelmed, Tony swiped at his tears and nuzzled his face against the older man's shirt.

"Hey, what's all this?" Jack asked, placing his large hand gently on the crown of the boy's head. "Thought you'd be happy to see your old Grandpa Jack."

"I am ha-happy. I just haven't seen you in w-weeks," Tony hiccupped; wiping his face with the bottom of his t-shirt and smiling tremulously as if to prove his point.

"Grandpa Jack has to run his store, Sport," Gibbs reminded him.

"But when I heard there was a chance they were busting you outta this joint, I just-"

Tony's head swivelled toward the former Gunny.

"I'm going home?" he asked in surprise.

"Hang on, Sport," Gibbs replied calmly. "That's what I was trying to tell you. I gotta go meet with your doc. Decision's his but we're gonna ask him to let you come home."

"He'll just say no again," Tony said despondently. "He always says no."

"We'll never know if we don't ask, right?" Gibbs told him. "Tony, if you're not ready, if you wanna wait-"

"I'm ready, Gibbs," Tony replied. "I'm really, really ready!"

Gibbs cupped the boy's cheek.

"Listen to me, Tony…if the doc says no-"

"Why? Why won't he let me? I want to go home with you, Gibbs!"

"I want that, too…more than anything…but I'm not gonna risk your health. If the doc says no, we keep trying till you're better and he says yes. You got that?"

Tony slumped back in his wheelchair and released a sigh that travelled all the way from his slippered feet.

"Yes, Sir," he said.

"Hey" Gibbs said, chucking him gently under the chin. "What'd I tell you about that?"

The boy's lips formed a tiny smile.

"Don't call you sir, you work for a living," Tony replied by rote.

"Damn straight," Gibbs grinned, tussling the little blonde head.

"I almost forgot," Jackson said brightly. "I have something for you."

Gibbs cast his eyes around the room that was already filled with books, puzzles, DVD's, a Gameboy and other toys. Jackson, Ducky, Abby and Kate rarely visited without bringing the boy a gift. If Gibbs didn't get the kid home soon, they we're going to need a moving van.

Jack looked at the parcel and paused thoughtfully.

"Sure is nice to have a kid to buy for again," he said, turning to meet his son's understanding gaze.

"I never had a Grandpa before," the boy spoke in a whisper, shyly looking up through long eyelashes. "But you don't have to buy me things. I'm just glad you're here."

Gibbs and Jack exchanged another glance, both failing to hide the emotion washing over them. Clearing his throat, Jack regained his composure and reached for the parcel.

"Well, let me tell you, young fella, that rule number one of being a Grandpa is always spoil the grandkid," he said, handing the parcel to Tony.

The boy directed a questioning look at Gibbs who conveyed his permission with a nod.

"Thank you, Grandpa Jack," Tony said politely before removing the wrapping from a model airplane kit. "Wow!"

"Thought we could make that together for your new bedroom," Jack said, as Tony ran reverent fingers over the picture on the box. "That's a P-51 Mustang. I flew one just like that in the war."

Tony looked up at the older man.

"You flew one of these, Grandpa Jack?"

"Yep, course she was a lot bigger than the one you got there," Jack chuckled, "had a picture of Betty Gable painted on her nose. Ahhh…great gams."

"Can we make it now?"

"Not today, Sport," Gibbs said. "Need a lot of room to put that together. You and Grandpa Jack can start that project when you get home."

Tony nodded sadly and then stilled except for the small jerking motion the fingers of his right hand.

Jackson frowned.

"Is that-"

Gibbs nodded as he reached for the seizure diary and recorded the incident. It was less than a minute until the boy looked up; unaware of what had happened.

"Sure is warm outside today," Jack said, hoping for a diversion. "What say we take that new book of yours out to the garden while Leroy goes to talk to your doc?"

Once again the boy turned hopeful eyes to Gibbs.

"Finish your Cheerios and juice first," the Gunny instructed.

"Okay!" Tony agreed, eyeing his breakfast with renewed interest.

Gibbs checked his watch and climbed to his feet.

"I gotta go," he said, dropping a kiss on the crown of Tony's head. "Dad?"

"He'll be fine, Leroy, I'll tell the nurses where we'll be and I'll take his seizure diary and the portable alert button in case we need it."

The former Marine nodded. As much as he wanted to keep the boy in his sights 24/7 he knew it just wasn't possible and reassured himself with the thought that if anyone loved this boy as much as he did, it was Jack.

"Don't let him get into any trouble," Gibbs said.

"We're going to read a book in the garden, son. Just what kind of trouble you expect him to find?" Jackson asked.

"Wasn't talkin 'bout the kid," Gibbs said with a wink for Tony.

He started down the corridor to his meeting with Jack's blustering and Tony's giggles still ringing in his ears.

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By the time Gibbs arrived at the meeting room, Doctor McNally, Ducky and the hospital's chief social worker, Jenny Shepard were already seated. Nodding a greeting to the others, the former Marine took a seat and got straight to the heart of the matter.

"We're two months down the track and my kid's still having seizures," he stated with a pointed look at McNally.

"Jethro, please…" Ducky censored.

"That's quite okay, Doctor Mallard," McNally said before turning to address the lead agent. "Epilepsy is a very complex condition Agent Gibbs, one that can be very difficult to control. Tony's situation is made more difficult by the fact that the anti-seizure drugs we administered, interacted badly with the medication he's taking for his spinal injury. I know this is very difficult but you shouldn't lose sight of the fact that we have made significant progress."

"He averages twenty minor and five major seizures a day. You call that progress?"

"When Tony was first admitted, the EEG showed he was having up to sixty minor and fifteen major seizures a day. Many of the minor seizures are occurring during his sleep so, yes, I consider that progress," McNally defended.

Gibbs nodded his head in reluctant apology. He had no axe to grind with the doctor -other than the fact that he had not yet discovered a miracle cure to Tony's acquired epilepsy. McNally and his team had provided exceptional medical care for the boy from the moment Tony was rushed to the hospital barely clinging to life. But with every passing day, the boy's ray of hope was growing dimmer and Gibbs was desperate to do anything to reignite it. As the silence grew thick between them, Jenny Shepard added her calm voice of reason.

"Doctor McNally, we know that there are several surgical options, including VNS, that are available for children with epilepsy. In your opinion, is Tony a candidate for any of them?"

The doctor paused to gather his thoughts before responding.

"Epilepsy surgery is considered only if the area of the brain where the seizures start, can be removed without impacting any critical functions such as language, sensation and movement," he said. "Tony's seizure focus is dangerously close those areas of his brain. While surgery is still an option, at this point, I'd prefer to consider it as a last resort."

Gibbs released a breath he didn't know he was holding. Tony was only eight years old yet, in his short lifetime, his experiences with hospitals were heartbreaking. He had stood by his mother's hospital bed, holding her hand and watching helplessly as she succumbed to a devastating illness. Then, a little more than two months ago, he awoke in a hospital bed and entered a world of pain and suffering. This brave little boy had reawakened the former Marine's paternal instincts that had lay dormant within him since the death of his family and Gibbs despaired at the thought of the boy having more major surgery. He mentally shook himself from his musings as Doctor McNally continued.

"I realise how difficult it is to watch someone you care about endure this process," he said. "As I told you from the start, it may take several months before we determine the best drug and dosage for Tony. However, there is another non-surgical option I think we should explore – the ketogenic diet."

"Since making the lad's acquaintance, I have taken the liberty of researching various epilepsy treatments," the ME said. "If memory serves, results of recent studies of the ketogenic diet have had very pleasing success rates."

McNally nodded in agreement.

"The ketogenic diet is a very strict, medically supervised diet that is high fat, low carbohydrate and moderate protein diet. It ensures the child's body burns fat instead of carbohydrate for energy. This creates a condition called "ketosis" and, for many children, having a high level of ketones in their blood helps to reduce seizure activity."

"Side effects?" Gibbs asked.

"There are some potential side effects with putting a child on this diet but Tony may or may not be affected. Initially, we'd keep him here in the hospital, so that we could monitor him for potential short term side effects such as vomiting, low blood sugar and dehydration; we would also adjust his medication whenever necessary."

"Doctor, what about long term side effects?" Jenny asked.

"High cholesterol, kidney or gall stones, pancreatitis, poor growth, weight loss."

"How long would he need to stay on it?" the agent asked.

"If it's effective, most children notice a significant reduction in seizure activity and can even reduce their medication within a two year period. But at this stage of Tony's recovery, I'd like him to remain here in the hospital for at least another six weeks."

Gibbs' shoulders slumped and he sighed wearily.

"The kid's had enough of hospitals, Doc. He needs to go home."

The doctor shook his head emphatically.

"Tony needs to be carefully monitored. He'll need frequent blood tests to measure his response to the medication. His red and white blood cell counts, blood sugar, blood calcium and electrolyte levels need to be carefully monitored as does his liver and kidney function."

Ducky stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Your caution is admirable, Doctor," he ventured. "However, would you have any objection to us arranging for a dietician and a specialist epilepsy nurse to make home visits? They could monitor the lad's progress and perform any tests necessary in the comfort of the boy's home."

McNally leaned back in his chair and considered the request. His expression remained inscrutable as he looked at the faces of the people sitting opposite him. There was no question that they all had genuine feelings for the boy but he was an expert in his field - a scientist and a man of medicine - he knew what was best for his patient and he was not about to be swayed by emotion.

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The doors to the elevator conveniently opened as Gibbs approached it and he pressed the button for the ground floor level. Leaning heavily against the wall, he thought back to the outcome of the meeting with Doctor McNally.

Due to the complexity of Tony's other medical issues, the neurologist had insisted the boy remain in hospital where his condition could be closely monitored in case of complications. However, when Ducky suggested they find a nurse and a dietician willing to make house calls, McNally conceded and tentatively scheduled Tony's discharge for three days time.

While Ducky and Jenny hurried off to make enquiries about hiring a specialist epilepsy nurse, Gibbs went in search of Jackson and his kid.  _His kid_. The words made his heart flutter and a small smile quirked his lips – fate had presented him with a second chance at fatherhood and he couldn't wait to finally take the boy home.

The beautifully manicured grounds offered a temporary sanctuary from the illness and grief synonymous with hospitals. A large oak tree stood tall in the centre, providing welcome shelter from the midday sun. Gibbs scanned the garden with a trained eye but saw no sign of his father and Tony.

"Agent Gibbs?"

The former Marine turned to see Michelle Davis approach him from a nearby bench where she and two other nurses were having their lunch break. Nurse Davis had been on duty the night Tony was admitted. She was a highly regarded member of Doctor McNally's team and had quickly formed a good rapport with Tony.

"If you're looking for your Dad and Tony, you just missed them."

"Missed them?"

"Tony had a seizure – just a small one and he's fine," she added hastily, noticing the worried expression on the agent's face. "He was a little disoriented so your Dad took him back to his room to rest."

Gibbs immediately turned on his heel when the nurse spoke again.

"Agent Gibbs? I thought you'd like to know…Jack handled the seizure like a pro. He kept Tony calm and talked to him the whole time; he did everything right."

Gibbs felt the tension ease slightly and managed a relieved smile.

"Good to know" he said nodding his thanks.

Double-timing it across the lawn and into the hospital foyer, he took the stairs two at a time, ignoring the protest of his bad knee. As he approached the door to Tony's room he heard the familiar cadence of his father's voice as he read from  _The Adventures of Tom Sawyer._

" _And when the middle of the afternoon came, from being a poor poverty-stricken boy in the morning, Tom was literally rolling in wealth. He had besides the things before mentioned, twelve marbles, part of a jews-harp, a piece of blue bottle-glass to look through, a spool cannon, a key that wouldn't unlock anything, a fragment of chalk, a glass stopper of a decanter, a tin soldier, a couple of tadpoles, six fire-crackers, a kitten with only one eye, a brass door-knob, a dog-collar – but no dog – the handle of a knife, four pieces of orange-peel, and a dilapidated old window sash. He had had a nice, good, idle time all the while – plenty of company – and the fence had three coats of whitewash on it! If he hadn't run out of whitewash he would have bankrupted every boy in the village."_

Leaning against the door jam, Gibbs took a few calming breaths and committed the image before him to his memory. Jackson absently threaded the fingers of one hand through the boy's blonde hair as Tony sprawled on the bed, his lips parted in sleep and his face turned toward Jack as if listening to every word.

Looking over the top of his glasses, Jack noticed his son's arrival and raised his finger to his pursed lips. He watched as Gibbs removed his jacket and shoes and silently climbed onto the bed. Easing the sleeping boy into his arms, Gibbs leaned back into the pillows and smiled as Tony muttered incoherently and rested his head on the former Marine's chest.

Dropping a kiss on top of the blonde head, Gibbs closed his eyes and lost himself in the feeling of holding this brave little boy. For a moment, his father's voice grew thick with emotion as his continued to read. In three days, he would take Tony away from the hospital and into his home where they would start a new life…together.

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**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Don't be shy, please tell me what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember that characters will appear in roles that have no correlation to their roles on the show.
> 
> Also note that although extensive research has been done on the medical issues and treatments, I have taken some liberties to keep the story flowing. SMcG

 

Kate moved a box of books and DVDs by the door where they wouldn't be forgotten.

"Gibbs was right," she said. "We're going to need a moving van to get you home."

She checked the bathroom and the bedside table for anything she may have forgotten and noticed the scruffy old stuffed toy still sitting on the rolling table.

"Can't forget this guy," she said, reaching for the bear. "What do you think? Is Paddington going into the box or is he riding with you?"

The boy's silence alarmed her and she turned quickly, frightened he might be having another seizure. But Tony was sitting propped up on the bed; his attention focussed on the large framed photo of his parents. Kate's heart ached as the boy's little fingers ghosted over the images of his mom and dad.

"Tony? You okay, sweetie?" she asked gently.

The boy nodded his head, shaking free a silent tear that spilled down his cheek.

"Kate?" he said softly. "Do you think my Mom and Dad would be mad that I'm going to live with Gibbs?"

"Aw, honey, no," she said, moving quickly to Tony's side and brushing the bangs from his face. "Is that what you think?"

Tony shrugged one shoulder in silent reply.

"Let me tell you what I think," Kate said, taking both of his hands in hers and hoping to find the right words. "I think, that your Mom and Dad loved you so very much that they would want you to be happy and healthy and strong. And they would want you to live with someone who loves you as much as they did. I think your parents would be very proud of you and so happy that a good man like Gibbs is going to take care of you."

A small sob broke though Tony's defences.

"Re-really?" he said, looking at her with glistening eyes.

"Yes, really," she replied, pulling the unresisting child into a hug and feeling the little body tremble with emotion as she shed several tears of her own.

They remained like that for several moments until Abby arrived with her usual flurry.

"Hey, short stuff, I'm sorry I'm late, I had to-" Abby abandoned her explanation as Kate quickly reached for a box of Kleenex and they wiped their faces. "Oh my God, what is it? What's wrong?"

"Just a few last minute nerves but we're fine now aren't we, Tony?"

Tony gave his best attempt at a smile and nodded his head.

"Good," Abby told them. "Cause you know I hate seeing people cry and…stuff. Besides, this is a happy day. Tony is  _finally_  going home."

"Yes he is," Kate said with a wink for Tony. "So, is Paddington riding in the box or with you?"

"Um…maybe…with me," Tony replied. "Just so he doesn't get lost."

"Right. Good thinking," Kate said, exchanging a grin with Abby as she handed the bear to the boy.

"Hey, guess what, short stuff? You'll be home in time for Halloween next week and there's so much to do. We have to decorate Gibbs' house and organise your costume so you can go trick or treating. You've been trick or treating before, right?"

"Well," Tony said with a grimace. "I went trick or treating last year but…it didn't end well."

"You didn't get any candy?" Abby guessed.

"I got  _lots_  of candy."

"You ate so much candy that you got sick – that happens to me, like, almost every year."

"No…I wanted to go trick or treating and I didn't have a costume so," this face contorted as the memory returned. "I kinda made a spaceman costume out of my Dad's new ski suit."

"Uh-oh! You got in trouble, huh?"

Tony nodded sadly.

"Well, this year, we'll get you the best most awesome costume ever and we'll take you trick or treating."

"In my wheelchair?" Tony asked.

"You bet in your wheelchair!"

Tony's smile was short-lived as his chin dropped to his chest.

"What if I have a seizure?"

Abby took a seat on the opposite side of the bed from Kate.

"You know, short stuff, I've never had epilepsy but I know it must be, like, so rotten and horrible sometimes. But you can't let it take all the fun from your life. You might have a seizure while you're trick or treating or you might not. Either way, you'll be with people who love you and will take care of you and keep you safe. Okay?"

"But I can't eat the candy," Tony said.

"Well, I don't know about Abby," Kate said, "but I've always thought that it was more fun to get the candy than to eat the candy. Besides, there are lots of kids just down the hall who would love to go trick or treating this year and can't leave the hospital."

Tony looked thoughtful as he tapped his finger against his lips.

"I know," he said. "Why don't I go trick or treating for all the kids in hospital who can't and I'll bring all the candy I collect back here to the hospital?"

"Now  _that_  sounds like a plan," Kate said, planting a kiss on the boy's cheek. "Let's keep packing or we won't get you home before Christmas."

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Jackson sat in the over-stuffed arm chair, reading the sports page and watching as his son walked from room to room, giving his home a last minute "once over." Even without taking Tony's room and the new extension into consideration, the house looked different. A new throw rug, and the matching cushions and drapes that Kate had insisted he buy, gave the living room a warmer look without losing the simplicity and masculine feel he preferred. But his gut tightened with a rare uncertainty.

"Everything okay, Son?"

Gibbs looked around to see his father's worried expression.

"What if this isn't enough?" he asked quietly. "The DiNozzo estate was…what if this isn't enough for him?"

"Leroy, that boy chose you, not your house," Jack said. "He adores you. He'll be happy wherever he is as long as you're right there with him, loving him, protecting him and teaching him how to be a good man."

Climbing to his feet, Jack placed his hand on his son's shoulder and met his gaze earnestly.

"This house was a fine home for our Kelly," he continued, his voice tinged with emotion. "It'll be just as good for our Tony."

Gibbs swallowed convulsively.

"Thanks, Dad," he eventually whispered.

"Now, go get our boy," Jack told him. "It's time to bring him home."

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Between the stack of paperwork, last minute medical examinations and the endless parade of medical and hospital staff that called by to wish them well, Gibbs wondered whether he'd ever get the kid home. He checked Tony's seizure diary, noting Kate had recorded three absence seizures and one brief generalised seizure that had occurred while he was gone. Still, the boy appeared to be in good spirits and Gibbs couldn't wait for Doctor McNally to discharged him.

Keeping his own emotions firmly in check, Gibbs rolled his eyes at the huge parting hugs and tears from both Abby and Kate. The lead agent promptly reminded the women that they would see the boy tomorrow afternoon at a small welcome home BBQ and then he steered the boy's wheelchair toward the car.

The Gunny's lips quirked in a smile as Tony enthusiastically approved of their mode of transportation – apparently a canary yellow, 1970's Dodge Challenger with wide black racing stripes was 'way cool.' But he thought the kid was going to take a header from the wheelchair when he told him that Grandpa Jack had lovingly restored the vehicle as a gift for Gibbs.

When they reached the car, the kid baulked at the sight of the child restraint. Legally, Tony had to be safely restrained when travelling in a vehicle, however, the specially made booster looked more like the type of car safety seat usually provided for children aged seven and under. A little miffed at the indignation of it all, Tony politely reminded Gibbs, that he was currently eight years old and had graduated to a small backless booster, which was quite legal in the tri-state area. The former Marine bit back a smile, half expecting the kid to cite the regulation number.

Taking a knee in front of the boy, Gibbs explained that Tony's wheelchair and booster had both been specially formed to the boy's current needs by the orthotist who also made his leg braces. They were designed to avoid any pressure points or rubbing on his legs and to keep him safely confined in case he suffered a seizure while travelling. After a moment of consideration, reason won out and Gibbs secured the boy into the seat, stowed the wheelchair and finally _, finally_ , headed for home.

Tony's excitement transformed to nerves during the twenty-minute drive from the hospital to Gibbs home and the former Gunny grew concerned.

"You okay, Sport?"

Tony plastered a strained smile on his face and nodded enthusiastically before returning his attention to the passing scenery. Pulling up in the driveway, Gibbs tooted the horn to let Jackson know they'd arrived. He rounded the car, retrieved the wheelchair from the trunk and lifted Tony into it as Jack arrived and wrapped the boy in a welcoming hug.

"Welcome home, young fella," Jack said, choking back his emotion. "I'll put your bag in your new room and we can get you settled in before dinner."

Tony nodded politely, his eyes as large as saucers. He looked at the house with a mixture of excitement and trepidation that caused Gibbs heart to skip a beat.

"Hey," he said quietly. "You gotta do two things for me, okay?"

"What two things?" Tony whispered nervously.

"First, always remember that you're here because we love you," he said watching the boy's face intently. "Second, you remember that day at the cemetery? You promised to tell me tell whenever you're sad, or lonely or scared."

"You promised to tell me, too, Gibbs," Tony pointed out.

Ruffling the boy's hair, the former Gunny smiled.

"Ready to go inside?"

Tony sat straighter in his wheelchair and turned his face toward the house.

"I'm ready, Gibbs," he said gamely.

Dropping a kiss on top of the blonde head, Gibbs leaned closely and whispered in the boy's ear.

"Welcome home, Sport."

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**More to come....**


	3. Chapter 3

 

Gibbs guided the wheelchair up the ramp and through the front door of his home as Jackson hobbled back down the hall.

"Tony's bag is on his bed," Jack told them, tussling the blonde head affectionately.

A gentle breeze carried enticing aromas from the kitchen and Gibbs turned to his father.

"I would've started dinner, Dad."

"Wasn't me," Jack admitted. "The boy's new dietician arrived just after you left."

"Nikki's here?" Tony asked.

"Not now, but she's coming back tomorrow to meet you," Jackson told him.

"She doesn't start till Monday" Gibbs said.

"The young lady thought we might need a hand for the first few days. She brought over some prepared Keto meals and ready-made drinks we can store in the fridge."

Gibbs nodded; pleased that Nikki had thought ahead. The success of the Ketogenic diet depended on every ingredient being precisely weighed and measured and having a few ready-made meals at their disposal was a big help. He looked up to see Jack grinning at him broadly.

"She sure has a thing about cleanliness. If you don't wanna eat dinner at the table tonight, I reckon we can eat off the kitchen floor."

Tony's eyes bulged and his jaw-dropped.

"We're eating off the floor?"

"We're not eating off the floor," Gibbs replied looking pointedly at his father. "Grandpa Jack's being funny."

"All joking aside, Son, that young lady really seems to know her stuff. Even showed me how to make a Keto pizza."

"I can have pizza?" Tony asked eagerly. "What kind is it, Grandpa Jack? Does it have sausage and pepperoni and lots of cheese?"

"No sausage or pepperoni, Tony, but it's got lots of cheese."

Tony inhaled heartily.

"Mmm…smells good," he said, blushing as his stomach growled loudly.

"Well," Jack said, "you better go wash up or I might just be tempted to eat all that pizza myself."

Gibbs wheeled Tony up the hall and into the bathroom adjoining his new room. He helped the boy wash his face and hands before moving the chair into the bedroom. Tony's medical needs were paramount and his bedroom contained a fully adjustable home-care bed, intercom/alarm buttons, seizure alert/monitors and an array of medical equipment.

But this room belonged to a little boy and Gibbs and the team had taken great care to ensure that Tony didn't feel like he had traded one hospital room for another. The mini home-theatre system, the brightly coloured drapes and matching bed linen were all brand new but many of Tony's possessions had been moved from his family home to make the boy feel as comfortable as possible. His eyes widened at the XBox and DVD library before lingering on the family portrait beside his bed, the student desk, dresser and his model racing car collection from his old room.

"These are my things," the boy whispered before dropping his head.

Hooking two fingers under Tony's chin, Gibbs gently tilted his head until their eyes met.

"Hey," Gibbs said softly. "Talk to me, Sport…what's up?"

Tony shrugged his narrow shoulders and cast his eyes downward.

"Makes you miss your Mom and Dad," Gibbs guessed.

The boy nodded, struggling against tears.

"We can change it," the former Marine told him. "Paint the walls a different colour. Get you some new furniture."

Taking a deep breath, Tony looked around the room again.

"I like it, Gibbs. Really," he smiled, gamely.

Gibbs watched the little face closely, trying to get a read on whether the kid was hiding his feelings.

"Told you before…it's okay to miss your Mom and Dad," the man said. "To miss your home."

Tony stilled for a long moment, staring vacantly as another absence seizure presented and then passed without his notice.

"Kate said this is my home now," Tony said looking up shyly through long dark lashes. "She said my Mom and Dad would like that I was living with you."

"What do you think?" Gibbs asked.

"I think they'd want me to be happy, just like Kate said."

"Kate's a smart lady," the former Marine smiled as he made a mental note to buy his agent a nice bottle of wine. "Know what I think?"

"What?"

"I think, if we don't get outta here soon, Grandpa Jack's gonna eat all your pizza."

"Quick, Gibbs, let's go...I'm starving!"

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During dinner Jackson and Gibbs discussed arrangements for the small BBQ lunch they were hosting the next day to welcome Tony home. In typical Gibbs fashion, it had started out as an understated, no-fuss gathering but once Abby and Kate were invited, they had quickly assumed control of everything except the venue and the grill. But Gibbs had to admit that he would never have thought of inviting the director's kids and Emily Fornell so Tony would have company closer to his own age.

The Keto diet required quite a bit adjustment and despite the occasional grimace when he thought no one was watching, Tony ate the sickly-sweet Keto pizza without a word of complaint. With dinner over and the dishes done, Gibbs gave Tony the extended tour of the house; guiding the wheelchair into the large extension he'd had built into a physical therapy room. Tony's jaw hung open as he gazed around at the parallel bars, massage table, floor mats, walking and standing frames and hydrotherapy table. He turned big green eyes to the former Marine.

"All this is for me?" Tony whispered, gazing around open mouthed.

"Ziva's gonna work with you here. Keep your muscles supple and strong."

"I'll work really hard, Gibbs," Tony said earnestly. "I promise."

Gibbs tussled the blonde head.

"I know you will, Sport."

Crossing back into the living room, Gibbs make a mental note to move the coffee table a few inches back to allow the wheelchair easier access.

"How bout we get you ready for bed?"

"Now?" Tony replied. "But it's still early."

"Don't have to go to bed, just have your bath and put your pj's on."

Tony and Gibbs were still awkwardly feeling their way with the bathroom activities and the line between privacy and safety often overlapped. In case of seizures, most children with epilepsy would shower rather than bathe but most children with epilepsy hadn't also suffered a spinal injury that confined them to a wheelchair. A custom built harness had been added to the bath lift to stop Tony from slumping beneath the bathwater if he lost consciousness and a similar shower-stool harness was on order. When Tony was finished his bath, Gibbs helped him into his pyjamas and the softer leg braces he wore each night.

"How bout you pick one of your movies and we'll watch it in the living room?" he said.

The boy's smile lit up the room and Gibbs felt a warmth rush over him at the kid's delight. Tony had shared his love of movies with his mother and he seemed to find comfort and solace in watching them - Gibbs had no intention of ever extinguishing that part of his life. Guiding the chair in front of the vast DVD collection Gibbs bit back a smile as the selection process took place. Tony trailed a finger along the movie titles, his expressive face never still as he searched for just the right movie.

"How about this one?" he said at last, reaching so far forward in his wheelchair that he almost took a header.

He handed the DVD to Gibbs and waited eagerly for the man's approval.

"The Court Jester," Gibbs read. "Never seen it."

"Really, Gibbs?" Tony said in amazement. "It's Danny Kaye! It's a classic! You know, the pellet with the poison is in the vessel with the pestle; the chalice from the palace has the brew that is true!"

"Nope, sorry."

Tony shook his head that the man's movie appreciation had been so sadly neglected.

"I can pick another one," he said begrudgingly.

"That one's fine," Gibbs told him wheeling them out the door toward the living room. "Besides…a man's gotta know about the poison in the palace and the chalice in the pestle, right?"

Tony did a comical double take and his hand flew to his mouth to smother the giggle that was trying to escape.

"What?" the agent deadpanned.

"Gibbs," Tony said, patiently enunciating. "The  _pellet_  with the  _poison_  is in the  _vessel_  with the  _pestle_ ; the  _chalice_  from the  _palace_  has the  _brew_  that is  _true!"_

"That's what I said," Gibbs insisted. "The palace with the pestle is in the chalice with the pellet, the poison from the brew has the vessel that is true."

Tony's peel of laughter echoed in Gibbs' heart and a rare unbridled smile formed on the agent's lips as he lifted the giggling boy from the wheelchair and placed him on the couch.

"Well now," Jackson said, hobbling into the room and taking a seat next to Tony. "What cinematic pleasure are we watching tonight?"

Tony handed him the DVD cover.

"The Court Jester? Good choice," Jackson nodded approvingly. "The pestle with the pellet is in the vessel with the true, and the palace from the poison, has the chalice full of brew."

The men exchanged broad grins over the boy's head as Tony dissolved into uncontrolled fits of laughter that lasted well after the start of the movie.

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With the movie over and the credits rolling, Jackson went to the kitchen to make the coffee while Gibbs struggled with the remote, trying to turn the DVD off. Tony looked around the room, seeing a door he hadn't noticed before.

"Gibbs?"

"Yep," the Gunny answered distractedly.

"What's that door?" the inquisitive boy asked.

Tossing the remote onto the armchair, Gibbs climbed to his feet and switched the DVD player off at the wall before turning to see where Tony was looking.

"Goes to the basement," he replied.

"Can I see?"

"S'late. We'll take a look tomorrow."

"Is that where you build stuff?"

"Yep. Like to work with my hands…helps me think."

"It's that where you build your magic boats," Tony giggled.

Gibbs grinned at the mischievous twinkle in the kid's green eyes.

"You run a background check on me, wise guy?" he said, poking his finger playfully into the boy's small chest.

"Didn't have to," Tony laughed, squirming to escape the finger poking. "Somebody squealed."

"That right?" Gibbs asked, delighted to see another glimpse of the boy's personality. "Tell me who snitched."

"No!"

"Ducky?"

"Not telling!"

"Palmer, it had to be Palmer, right?"

"Not giving up my informant!"

"Your informant?"

"I know my rights," the kid giggled.

"You know your rights?" Gibbs repeated. "Where'd you hear that stuff?"

"Magnum PI," Tony shouted excitedly.

"Magnum PI? I'll give you Magnum-"

Gibbs stopped mid-sentence as the boy's smile suddenly disappeared and a flash of confusion and fear filled his eyes.

"Tony?" Gibbs said calmly.

The child gasped loudly and his eyes rolled backwards, his muscles stiffened and began a slow rhythmic jerking action that increased in intensity. As Gibbs turned him on his side, Jackson appeared beside him and placed a towel under the boy's head.

"He's not breathing," Jack said struggling to remain calm.

"He will, Dad, soon as he stops seizing," Gibbs said threading his fingers through the blonde hair. "We're here, Sport, not going anywhere. We're right here with you."

As the seizures started to settle, the rigidity of Tony's muscles reduced and he spontaneously took a gasp of breath.

"That's it," Gibbs smiled. "You got this now, buddy. It's almost over."

The seizure stopped but Gibbs continued to speak encouragingly and rub the boy's back for several moments until Tony opened his eyes.

"You did real good," he said, trying to smile encouragingly. "Been a big day. You wanna hit the rack?"

Tony nodded his head lethargically. Cradling the boy against his chest, Gibbs carried the child to his new room. He laid the pliant boy in the bed and pulled the covers up to his shoulders as he sat on the side of the bed and continued to rub circles on his back. Within minutes, Tony's eyelids grew too heavy to keep open, and the former Marine leaned forward and kissed the boy's sweaty temple.

"Night, Sport," he said.

"Night," Tony whispered.

The kid was right on the cusp of sleep when he whispered again.

"Gibbs?"

"Right here, buddy."

"Thanks for bringing me home."

"You bet," he replied, swallowing convulsively.

"Gibbs?"

"Mmm?"

"I really like my room."

"I'm glad."

"Gibbs?"

The former Marine grinned. Sleep might win this battle but the kid wasn't going down without a fight.

"Tony?"

"Abby snitched about the boats."

"I know," Gibbs told him as he watched the boy slip over the edge into sleep with the hint of a smile on his face.

Jackson entered the room several minutes later and handed his son a cup of coffee.

"He asleep?" Jack asked.

"Yep."

"All those fancy monitors and seizure alarms; you gonna sit here all night watching the boy sleep?"

"Yep."

"Then I reckon I'll keep you company for a while," Jack said taking a seat beside him. "The boy's still got a lot of healing to do - gonna be a lot of people coming and going. You ready for that, Son."

"Yeah, Dad, I'm ready."

"Sure was good to hear him laughing like that. This family's been too long without the sound of a child's laughter."

Gibbs nodded sadly, as echoes of Kelly's angelic giggles twisted his heart.

"Leroy?" Jack said and waited till Gibbs looked at him. "You did it, Son, you brought him home."

Smiling, the two men raised their coffee mugs and clicked them together in a mock toast as they continued their silent vigil over the sleeping boy.

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**More to come...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, in a disability story or one where medical issues are an important factor, writing can be a delicate balance. While you can't ignore the medical issues and challenges they bring to the characters, you desperately want to tell an entertaining story while showing the strengthening bond between a little boy and his new foster Dad. I hope I am doing justice to both.  
> Many thanks for reading. SMcG

Gibbs woke with a start, his heart was pounding against his sternum and his thoughts were locked on the horrifying image conjured by his nightmare. Leaning over the bed, he cupped Tony's warm cheek while the other hand rested gently hand against the boy's small chest. He breathed a sigh of relief as he relished the feel of Tony's slow and strong heartbeat.

It had been over two months since the boy had been seriously injured, and yet, the horror of that night returned regularly to torment them both. During his stay in the hospital, Tony had often woken in the middle of the night, screaming and sobbing inconsolably for his parents. With his own heart breaking for the boy, Gibbs would take Tony into his arms and rock him until him cried himself to sleep.

After reassuring himself that the child was fine, Gibbs climbed gingerly to his feet and flexed his back and neck to get the kinks out. Walking to the window, he adjusted the drapes and allowed the morning sun to flood the room with natural light.

The boy was starting to stir; his pale face contrasted by the dark circles under his eyes. Like many children with epilepsy, Tony's seizures occurred during the day and at night while he slept. According to the seizure monitor and the additional grey hairs on the former Marine's head, the kid had four grand mal seizures last night - fortunately, none lasting more than three minutes.

History told him that it was unlikely that Tony would remember his seizures, however, the constant interruptions to his sleep patterns would result in the boy being drowsy and fatigued when he woke up. The former gunny brushed the bangs from the boy's face as the green eyes opened and peered blearily up at him.

"Morning," Gibbs said quietly.

Tony offered a sleepy smile in return as he closed his eyes and tried to snuggle back under the blankets.

"Sorry, Sport, up and at 'em," he said. "Gotta big day today."

With a minimum of fuss, Gibbs carried Tony to the bathroom to wash his face, take care of business and test his Ketosis levels. After helping the kid to change from his leg braces and pyjamas into his sweats, the former Marine carefully administered Tony's various medications.

Dispensing with the wheelchair for such a short distance, he carried Tony into the therapy room and laid him gently on the exercise mat. Gibbs had hired physical therapist, Ziva David, to work with Tony each weekday from nine to twelve, leaving the weekends to Gibbs to help the boy through thirty minutes of gentle stretching.

Tony was quiet and unusually subdued during his exercises but the lead agent saw no sign of seizures and could feel no fever. It was possible that the kid was finding it hard to wake up but Gibbs' gut told him that there was something else going on inside the little blonde head.

"Feeling okay?" he asked.

Tony shrugged one slim shoulder but remained quiet.

"Something you wanna talk about?"

The shoulder shrugged again and his teeth teased his bottom lip.

"What if they don't like me, Gibbs?" he said shyly.

The question came from out of the blue and stopped Gibbs in his tracks.

"If who doesn't like you?"

"The other kids; the ones who are coming today."

Gibbs looked at the serious little face and immediately understood that, to Tony, this was a very real concern and required a real answer. The boy's old school records had unanimously described him as bright, confident and outgoing; well-liked by faculty and other students. His serious injury and the loss of his parents had shaken his confidence to the point where Tony was no longer sure who he was.

Ignoring the protest from his bad knee, Gibbs climbed to his feet and reached down for the boy who wrapped his arms tightly around the man's neck. Sitting him securely on the massage table, Gibbs took a seat in front of him so they could speak eye to eye.

"Why wouldn't they like you?" he asked quietly.

Tony's chin dropped to his chest.

"Cause I'm different," he replied sadly.

Gibbs felt his heart squeeze painfully.

"Everyone's different, Sport…'swat makes us who we are."

"But I'm different 'cause I have seizures," Tony replied softly. "And I can't walk anymore."

Gibbs took a deep breath – he was only going to get one shot at this and he had to get it right.

"In here," he said, touching his fingers gently to Tony's temple. "And in here," he continued, placing his hand over the child's heart. "You're the same great kid you were before you got hurt. You understand?"

"I guess," the boy said, unconvincingly. "But…"

"Something else?"

"What will we talk about?"

"You gotta find something in common."

Tony looked puzzled.

"But I don't know them, Gibbs and they're older than me."

"Doesn't mean you don't like the same things."

"Like what?"

"You play piano, right?" Gibbs asked.

"Only a little," Tony replied sadly. "My Mom was teaching me but then she got sick."

"Tobias said Emily's started taking lessons," Gibbs told him.

Green eyes brightened with interest.

"Kayla's on the school basketball team and Jared likes baseball and computer games."

"I can talk to them about sports! I  _love_  sports, Gibbs," Tony enthused. "And I've got a new Xbox...but I don't know how to play it yet"

"I hear McGee and Palmer are pretty good."

"Do you think they'd teach me, Gibbs?"

"Don't see why not."

"That'd be so cool. Tim's like a...a computer genius."

"There's an old hoop and a basketball in the garage. Bet if you practiced you could still make a few baskets."

"From my chair? Really?"

"Yep," Gibbs said, giving one of the boy's biceps a gentle squeeze. "Need some muscles in these spaghetti arms so you can push your chair."

Tony smiled brightly.

"That's a great idea, Gibbs? Can we do it now?"

"Breakfast first, Sport, then you can help me clean the grill and put up the hoop?"

Tony held his arms up to be lifted and Gibbs took the hint.

"Come on, Gibbs, we have to hurry. I have to practice before everyone gets here."

As they headed back to Tony's bedroom for the wheelchair, Gibbs grinned at the boy's enthusiasm, relieved that for the moment, the crisis appeared to be over.

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They made it to the kitchen in time to see Jackson dishing up breakfast. Tony brightened considerably as Jack placed a small stack of silver dollar pancakes and whipped cream in front of him.

"Pancakes, Dad?" Gibbs said warily.

"Must be okay, Leroy, Nikki left them already prepared."

Taking his first tentative bite, Tony chewed and frowned as he tried to identify the taste.

"Tastes like peanuts," he said.

"They're made from ground macadamia nuts instead of flour," Jackson replied.

"They're nice," the boy said approvingly.

' _Score one for Jardine,'_ Gibbs thought as he watched the boy tuck in for another bite.

Since he'd started the Ketogenic diet four days ago, Tony was finding the adjustment difficult. However, for the diet to prevent seizures, it had to be followed exactly. Consisting of mainly fatty foods such as butter, cream and peanut butter the usual food groups like bread, pasta, fruits, and vegetables were severely limited.

Doctor McNally had warned that it may take up to eight weeks of strict diet regime before it was clear whether the boy was going to respond favourably. If at that time, a decrease in seizure activity was evident, a further two years on the diet was recommended and anti-seizure medication would be slowly reduced.

Already, eating had become onerous and unpleasant for Tony, prompting Gibbs to appoint dietician, Nikki Jardine. With her help, he hoped they would find a good variety of foods that were Keto approved and that Tony enjoyed. Life for a Keto kid was tough enough.

Gibbs ruffled the boy's hair and left him happily chatting with Jackson while he went to shower and dress. He arrived back downstairs to find Tony engrossed in a cartoon and absently sipping on a strawberry smoothie. Moving past his father, he reached for the coffee pot and poured a fresh cup.

"You look as exhausted as the boy," Jack remarked. "Not much point in having that fancy seizure monitor, Son, if you're gonna sit up all night anyway."

McNally had recommended the seizure monitor when Tony was discharged from hospital. Placed under Tony's mattress, the sensor was designed to raise an alarm whenever muscular convulsions were detected, such as those encountered during grand mal seizures. While it was not programmed to detect seizures with low levels of movement, such as partial or absence seizures, it was programmed to ignore normal sleeping movements.

They'd used the monitor for the first time last night but Gibbs was leaving nothing to chance. He had stayed by Tony's bed all night – monitoring the monitor as it registered all four grand mal seizures. The alarm had allowed Gibbs to turn the child into the recovery position and monitor the duration and severity of the seizures and, most of all, it had brought the former Gunny some much needed peace of mind.

"Just making sure it worked," Gibbs replied.

"Doc McNally said the monitor was top of the range. You didn't wanna take his word that it worked?"

"Not with my kid," Gibbs replied, chugging the rest of his coffee. "Gotta clean the grill and put up the basketball hoop."

"Ya need a hand?"

"Got one," Gibbs grinned and then called over his shoulder. "DiNozzo, with me!"

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Gibbs scrubbed down the grill and fitted the gas bottle, watching the boy in his peripheral as Tony positioned his wheelchair under the hoop and took another shot that fell short of the mark. Huffing his frustration he awkwardly wheeled the chair in pursuit of the ball and returned for another try. Gibbs grinned at the kid's dogged determination – he'd been shooting for nearly ten minutes and, so far, he hadn't come close. When the latest attempt barely made the bottom of the backboard, Gibbs gathered the ball and casually wandered over to the disappointed boy.

"I could lower the hoop?"

"I can get it, Gibbs, I know I can," Tony replied. "It's just kinda hard in the chair."

"Here," Gibbs said, putting the brakes on the chair. "Try that."

With the chair more stable, Tony's next attempt rebounded off the hoop and the boy's face lit up.

"I nearly got it!" he said flashing a wide smile that Gibbs mirrored with his own.

After several more minutes, the boy began to tremble with fatigue and experienced two short absence seizures. Knowing fatigue was a trigger for seizures, Gibbs managed to persuade Tony to take a short rest period inside the house before their guests arrived.

The grand mal seizure Gibbs was dreading occurred just as he got the boy into the house. He swept Tony out of the chair and quickly moved into the boy's room where he laid him on the bed in the recovery position, talking calmly until the convulsions stopped. The seizure lasted just under two minutes and although the former Gunny was frustrated, he was also grateful that he had recognised the warning signs and had got Tony safely inside.

Fatigue took its toll and the weary boy slept for another two hours and experienced only one seizure during his slumber. By the time Tony had woken and Gibbs helped him into some clean clothes, the guests had begun to arrive.

"You ready?" Gibbs asked, finger-combing the tussled blonde hair.

Tony nodded silently but looked nervously out the door.

Abby and Kate were laughing with Mitchell, Ducky, Ziva and Jenny. While another group of Jackson, McGee, Palmer and Breena, Michelle Davis and Nikki Jardine sat at one of the tables. Voices sounded from the side path as the Vance family and Tobias and Emily Fornell arrived and joined the others.

Tony's shoulders tensed. Despite his talk with Gibbs about finding things in common with the other kids, sitting in his wheelchair, Tony felt very, very different.

"Hey," the agent said softly. "They're good kids. You'll do great."

The boy looked up at his new foster father. His attempt at a carefree smile looked more like a pained grimace but Gibbs chucked him under the chin and guided the chair through the door and down the ramp into the yard. With the exception of Abby, who greeted the boy with her usual exuberance, Gibbs was grateful the others had kept their greetings casual to avoid overwhelming the boy.

When the Vance family and Tobias and Emily Fornell approached to say hello, Tony eyed the other children warily. It took the only mom of the group, Jackie Vance, to break the ice between the children and suggest they take the basketball and shoot some hoops before lunch. As Kayla moved in behind the wheelchair and began to push it down the path, Tony looked back at Gibbs with anxious green eyes.

"He'll be fine, Gibbs," she said, linking her arm through his and leading him away. "We talked to our kids about epilepsy, last night. If anything happens, they know to call us right away."

With the meat on the grill and the salads and side dishes prepared, the adults watched as the kids played a game of two on two. After many unsuccessful attempts, the biggest cheer of the day erupted when Tony put everything he had into a floater that skirted the rim three times before falling through for a two-pointer. The kid nearly flipped his wheelchair with excitement as he exchanged high-fives with an equally ecstatic Kayla, Jared and Emily. From his position at the grill, Gibbs beamed proudly and nodded his thanks in Jackie's direction - this was just what the kid needed. Vance took over the barbecuing duties as Gibbs made his way across the lawn, through the throng of well wishers and took a knee in front of the wheelchair.

"Did you see me, Gibbs?" Tony asked, throwing his arms around the agent's neck and flashing a smile as bright as Gibbs had ever seen. "Did you see? I did it! I did it!"

Climbing to his feet, Gibbs wrapped his arms around the small boy and lifted him from his wheelchair.

"Atta boy, Tony," he told him, hugging him close. "That's a good job."

A metallic clanging sounded from behind them and they turned to see the director hitting a pair of BBQ tongs against a metal tray.

"Grab a plate everyone, burgers are ready," he announced.

As the hungry hordes scrambled for their plates and cutlery, Tony's head dropped.

"What's up?" Gibbs said.

"I know I can't have one, but I'd really, really like a burger," Tony replied.

"Who said you can't have one," Nikki Jardine said.

"I can have a burger?" the boy asked hopefully.

"Well, you can't have the bun but you can have a special burger on a stick, complete with a chunk of tomato, a small amount of lettuce and...a pickle." Nikki produced a plate with Tony's burger fashioned onto a kebab-stick.

"Smell's good," Tony said.

"It is good, it's the same meat everyone else is eating," she assured him. "And...you have a chocolate brownie for dessert."

The boy's jaw dropped.

"No way!"

"Yes, way," she laughed. "On Monday we'll have a long talk about all the foods you like and don't like and we'll see if we can make this Keto diet more interesting for you, okay?"

"Yes, please," Tony said.

"Tony," Jared called rushing across the yard. "Come and sit with us!"

Tony looked at Gibbs and received a nod before Jared pushed the chair to the far end of the table where Emily and Kayla were already seated. With Halloween only a week away, the kids discussed the latest Halloween costumes; chatting and giggling as if they'd known each other all their lives. Then, as if he sensed he was being observed, Tony turned to see Gibbs watching from the head of the table and he flashed his dimpled smile. Brimming with pride, Gibbs returned Tony's grin with a nod of approval.

'Not so different after all,' he said, softly. "Atta boy, Tony."

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	5. Chapter 5

Leroy Jethro Gibbs leaned back in his chair, his appetite pleasantly sated and a cold beer in his hand. For the first time in a difficult two months he was relaxed as he watched the happy faces conversing and laughing around the large outdoor table. There was so much he wanted to say to these people; so much gratitude for those who had provided him with such overwhelming support.

The dogged determination of his NCIS teammates and colleagues had led to the arrest of Nicholas DiNozzo and spared Tony a lonely life in a Swiss rehab centre. Jenny Shepard, Ziva David, Michelle Davis and Nikki Jardine - who had all agreed to provide and monitor Tony's ongoing care from home - had greatly assisted Gibbs' custody petition and allowed the boy to leave hospital much earlier than usually possible. And, of course, Jackson Gibbs, whose unconditional love and acceptance of this special little boy had helped heal their painful rift and bonded their relationship in ways neither of them had thought possible.

When the former Marine tragically lost his wife and daughter, he closed a very large part of himself off from the world. For over twenty years he was unwilling and unable to let go of the hurt or to share that part of his life with anyone. Gibbs had never been one to seek the help or company of others or to express his feelings in anyway other than rock solid support and the occasional kind word or gesture. But sitting at the far end of the table, currently engaged in a game of thumb wrestling with McGee, was a little blonde boy who had unwittingly changed all of that.

The conversations hushed as Gibbs got to his feet and tapped his water glass with a spoon. He looked around at this special group of people before locking eyes with the small boy in the wheelchair. There was no need for uncustomary, long-winded speeches - his silent gratitude spoke volumes. After a moment's silence, Gibbs raised his glass in a simple yet heartfelt toast.

"Welcome home, Tony," he said. "To family and friends."

The boy smiled shyly, his eyes suspiciously bright as the guests echoed the sentiment.

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Tony experienced two short absence seizures during the meal – one he didn't appear to notice and another that left him feeling a little disoriented. Gibbs watched with interest, as the Vance kids and Emily Fornell, seemed to take things in their stride and tried not to make a fuss. With the meal over, McGee, Michelle Davis, Palmer and Breena joined the children shooting baskets while the rest of the adults cleared the table ready for dessert and coffee or relaxed in the warm sunshine. A loud squeal of excitement heralded Tony's second basket and brought a smile to every face.

"He's a fine boy," Vance said, taking a seat beside Gibbs and placing a steaming cup of coffee in front of him.

Gibbs nodded in agreement before giving the man a quick sideways glance.

"You processed my resignation yet, Director?"

"That's what I'd like to talk to you about."

"Nothing to talk about," Gibbs replied. "Mind's made up."

"Just hear me out," Vance said. "You know I think highly of Agent Todd. She's been doing a fine job leading the team in your absence…"

"Formalize her position. Make her team leader."

"You know I can't do that. The position has to be advertised; she'll have to apply like any other applicant."

"S'been two months. Whatcha waiting for?"

"SecNav wants to hold off. He's hoping you'll change your mind."

Gibbs shook his head definitely.

"Not gonna happen. I just got him home."

"I know that, Gibbs, but…things are getting missed. Evidence is being logged late, reports are overdue and the team hasn't reviewed a cold case in weeks."

"You want them to do the work of a four person team, get em a fourth person."

"Looks like we'll be looking to fill two vacancies on the team."

Gibbs frowned in confusion until realization struck.

"Mitchell?"

"He's applied for a transfer on compassionate grounds. His mother's condition has worsened."

"He's got school-aged brothers in San Diego," Gibbs said. "They're gonna need him."

"I hate to ask…"

"Then don't," Gibbs said. "Tony's only been home a day, Leon. He needs me here."

"Believe me, Gibbs, I wouldn't ask if we didn't need you, too," Vance told him. "Just for a few hours a day in a consultant's capacity until we fill the positions. Your hours will be completely flexible."

"You run this by Kate?" Gibbs asked.

"She's on board. Actually, I think she'd appreciate having you around to help during the transition."

Gibbs huffed out a exasperated sigh and rubbed one hand over his jaw.

"I'll talk to Tony," Gibbs said. "If he's balks, I'm out. He comes first."

"Of course," Vance said.

A time out was called in the basketball game as the thirsty players sought refreshments and took a few moments break. Gibbs' attention moved to thirteen year old Emily Fornell as she dragged her reluctant father by the hand and headed in his direction.

"Agent Gibbs? Director Vance?"

"Emily," both men answered together.

"I was wondering if…well, I just thought…"

The young girl crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes - a gesture that reminded Gibbs of her mother. Reaching forward he playfully pulled one of her braids.

"What's up?"

"Well, Dad's taking me trick or treating for the first time ever!" she grinned up at her father.

"You've never been trick or treating before?" Gibbs asked.

"Oh no, I've been lots of times but Dad's always working. This year, Mom wouldn't take no for an answer – she's arranged our costumes and everything!"

"Costumes?" Gibbs asked, raising an eyebrow at his friend.

This time it was Fornell who crossed his arms and rolled his eyes.

"Don't go there, Gibbs," he warned.

"What kind of costumes?" the former Marine asked, disregarding the warning.

"I'm going as Red Riding Hood and Dad's going as…"

"Grandma?" Vance guessed, enjoying Fornell's discomfort.

"The axeman," Fornell told them pointedly. "Plaid shirt, plastic axe – no big deal."

"Sounds like fun," Gibbs smirked.

"Oh, it will be," Emily continued. "Anyway, I was wondering if, maybe, we could all go trick or treating together?"

"Sounds like a great idea," Vance said, "but Kayla and Jared have already said they'd go to a party at a friend's house. But next year for sure."

"Oh," Emily said, unable to hide her disappointment. "What about Tony?"

"Haven't thought too much about Halloween, Em, that's Abby's department," he said. "Let me talk to Tony."

Gibbs looked around the yard and a frown formed on his face. The boy was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Tony?" he asked, climbing to his feet.

"He and Jared are on the side path," Kayla Vance replied with a shrug. "They're talking about some movie."

"I'm sure they're fine," Vance said. "They'll be here the second dessert is served."

"I'll get 'em, Boss," McGee said, already walking in that direction.

Before the agent made it across the lawn, a commotion of laughter and loud young voices sounded from the direction of the side path.

**_"Wooo-hooo!"_ **

McGee jumped quickly out of the way as the runaway wheelchair careened around the side of the house, precariously leaning to one side, before toppling over and spilling both boys onto the lawn in a tangle of limbs and wheels.

In three quick strides Vance and Gibbs arrived by the boys' sides. Gibbs' heart skipped a beat as Tony lay face down in the grass, his body shaking convulsively.

"Tony?" Gibbs said.

Turning him gently, he was completely dumbstruck to see the kid laughing hysterically.

"That was…that was fun!" Tony exclaimed when he regained his breath.

"Yeah." Jared laughed, "but next time, you gotta remember the brake."

The two boys dissolved into fits of laughter again as Gibbs and Vance stared speechlessly at each other. McGee righted the wheelchair, finding it no worse for wear, and Gibbs lifted Tony into it, stepping back as Ducky and Nurse Davis quickly checked both boys over.

"They're fine," Ducky declared several moments later. "A few scraped knees and elbows but neither boy appears any the worse for their adventure."

"Not yet," Vance muttered, turning to look at Gibbs. "I'm sorry, Gibbs. Jared's normally a pretty sensible kid. I don't know what got into him."

"Director, if I may…" Ducky began. "I agree that this escapade could have ended badly but young Jared has managed to bring out a side of Anthony that no one else has."

"Duck?" Gibbs frowned.

"Despite his medical issues, we have just witnessed first hand, that Anthony is a normal, adventurous, impish eight-year-old boy," Ducky grinned. "And I must say, that I am delighted to see it."

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They all gathered around the table once again as Kate, Jenny and Jackson brought a selection of desserts to the table. Gibbs watched Tony's reaction carefully but the boy seemed happy enough with the Keto brownie Nikki had made for him and didn't even glance at the other desserts on offer.

Gibbs grinned in amusement as Emily nudged Tony with her elbow and whispered in his ear, receiving an irritated frown in reply.

' _Yep,'_  he thought.  _'Just like her mother.'_

Not easily put off, Emily nudged him again and Tony sighed.

"Abby," he said. "Emily wants to know if she can go trick or treating with us on Halloween."

"Of course she can," Abby replied happily. "In fact, Kate and I were just talking about your costume."

"You were?"

"We were. After the way you negotiated the side path at near break neck speed, we thought you might like to be…a racing car driver!"

Tony's eyes widened in delight and his mouth hung open in what was fast becoming Gibbs' favourite expression.

"I'd love it," he whispered.

"Then it's all set," Abby said. "I'll swing by here nice and early on Halloween so we can decorate the house and carve the pumpkin. You can change into your costume, and then, I'll stay and give out the candy while you and Gibbs go trick or treating with Emily and Agent Fornell."

"Cool!"

"But…you have to promise me that you'll do all your racing on the Xbox from now on."

Tony's shoulders slumped and he sighed in resignation.

"What's wrong, Short Stuff?"

"I've never had an Xbox before," he said, with a not so subtle glance at McGee and Palmer. "I don't know how to play."

"Jimmy," McGee said. "I think it's about time Tony learns to play Xbox, don't you?"

"Absolutely," Jimmy agreed. "Maybe he'll be good enough to beat my high score in Forza Motorsport 4."

"You mean, my high score," McGee corrected.

"No…my high score. I beat yours two days ago."

"And I beat yours last night."

"You didn't," Jimmy exclaimed.

"Did."

"Didn't."

"Gentlemen, please!" Ducky interjected. "Perhaps you could leave this argument for another day and teach young Anthony how to play the blessed game."

"Oh…of course, sorry Doctor," Palmer said, guiding Tony's wheelchair back from the table. "Let's go, little man!"

"Come on, Jared," Tony called excitedly to his friend; adding when he heard Gibbs clear his throat loudly. "Oh…and you too, Kayla." Gibbs cleared his throat a second time and Tony spoke without enthusiasm. "You can come, too, Emily."

With another roll of her eyes and a flick of her braid, Emily moved from the table and followed the others inside.

' _Yep, just like her mother,'_  Gibbs told himself again.

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With the children inside with Palmer and McGee, the adults continued to relax and enjoy the warmer than usual October weather.

"Oh, Jethro," Jenny said. "Child Services received a letter from Rhode Island Military Academy. Tony's first year's tuition has already been paid and they're keeping a dorm room for him. They wanted to know when to expect him."

"Tell em, to give the room to someone else," he said. "The kid's not gonna need it."

"I already did," Jenny smiled. "But we will have to discuss Tony's schooling. If you like, I can make some inquiries into the local school districts."

"You should try our school," Jackie said. "It's not far from here and they have an excellent curriculum. Our kids love it. Don't you think so, Tobias?"

"The principal, Paula Cassidy, runs a tight ship," Fornell said. "I was ten minutes late picking Emily up after school and I thought she was gonna give  _me_  detention."

Abby looked surprised.

"Your kids go to the same school?" she asked. "That's so cool! If Tony goes to that school, he'll already have friends there."

"Takes a lot of pressure off being the new kid, Gibbs," Kate said. "McGee says that the worst part of being a Navy brat, was always changing schools and always being the new kid."

"Won't be looking at schools until we get his seizures under control and his meds right," Gibbs told them.

"He's already missed a lot of school," Jenny said. "He's going to need some kind of tutoring or he may have to repeat a year."

Their attention was drawn to the landing as Kayla, Jared and Emily appeared at the door looking anxious.

"Agent Gibbs?" Kayla said, tentatively.

Gibbs was immediately on his feet and moving quickly toward the house, with Ducky and Nurse Davis following close behind. As they approached Tony's room they heard Palmer's calm voice.

"That's it, Tony, it's a big one this time but you're doing great," he said.

The former Gunny arrived at Tony's bedside where Palmer and McGee were gently holding the convulsing body in the recovery position. A bath towel placed under the boy and the growing stain on Tony's jeans told their own story.

"How long?" Gibbs asked.

McGee checked his watch.

"Three and a half minutes, Boss."

"Should we give him something?" Gibbs asked.

"Not yet," Michelle said, taking Tony's vitals and smiling reassuringly. "He's fine, Gibbs, let the seizure run it's course."

"What happened?"

"We were just playing the Xbox, Boss. Tony was having a ball," McGee said. "Then his body arched and stiffened and he started convulsing."

"We sent the other kids out of the room, lifted Tony onto the bed and placed him into the recovery position," Palmer added.

"There's no fever," Ducky observed, placing his hand on Tony's forehead and pushing the bangs from the small face as the seizure began to subside. "There you go, my boy, it's all over now."

Michelle looked around the room and frowned at the empty wheelchair.

"Is that where Tony was sitting?" she asked.

"Oh God," Palmer said feeling sick to his stomach. "This was my fault. Agent Gibbs, I'm so sorry."

"Palmer, what are you talking about?" Gibbs asked with growing frustration.

Michelle placed a calming hand on the former Marine's forearm.

"There's a condition known as photosensitive epilepsy in which seizures are triggered by visual stimuli such as flashing lights or regular moving patterns," Michelle explained.

"Tony has that?" Gibbs asked.

"Doctor McNally tested Tony for it in the hospital; he doesn't have it."

"Then what the hell happened?"

"To put it simply, Tony was sitting too close to the screen," she said. "The closer someone with epilepsy sits to the screen, the more it fills their entire field of vision and the greater the chances of triggering a seizure."

"Will it happen again?"

"It's hard to say. But as long as he sits at least 3 yards from the screen and keeps the room well lit, he should be fine."

"He's starting to come around," Ducky said.

Gibbs moved in to Tony's line of sight as the boy opened his eyes.

"Hey, Sport," he said, cupping the boy's cheek with his hand.

"Tony, it's Michelle. Do you remember me?" Nurse Davis asked.

The blonde head nodded sluggishly.

"Can you tell me where you are?" she asked."

Tony frowned, and tried to roll away from the voices.

"Tony?"

"The hospital?" he answered as his eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep.

"He's just a little confused, Gibbs," Michelle told him. "He knows me from the hospital so it was a pretty fair guess. He'll be fine once he sleeps it off."

"Agent Gibbs," Jimmy started.

"Not your fault, Palmer," Gibbs said.

"But I…"

"Jethro is right, Mr Palmer," Ducky said. "Until young Anthony's epilepsy is under control and we know the boundaries of what the lad can and can't tolerate, there will be more incidents such as this."

"Boss, I've read about video games specially manufactured for people with epilepsy," McGee said. "If you like, I can do some research, see what I can find out."

Gibbs nodded his head, not taking his eyes off the boy as the others quietly made their way from the room.

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With the guest of honour out like a light and not expected to make another appearance until morning, the guests pitched in to help clean up before bidding Jackson goodnight.

"Leroy?" Jackson's worried voice sounded from the door. "You need a hand, Son?"

Silently working together, they gave the boy a warm sponge bath, slipped him into a clean pair of pyjamas and got him into bed without disturbing his slumber.

"He's a tough kid," Jack chuckled. "I near had a heart attack when he came shooting round the corner of the house, hollerin' and having the time of his life. Once we get these seizures stopped, I reckon we're gonna have our hands full with this little one."

Leaning over the sleeping boy, Jackson placed a chaste kiss on Tony's temple and left the room.

The day ended as it began with Gibbs sitting by Tony's bedside as the young boy slept. The former Gunny held his breath as the boy rolled onto his side and rubbed his face on the pillow as he searched for a more comfortable position. Although he knew he was overreacting, Gibbs anticipated a seizure with every murmur or movement Tony made in his sleep. Pulling the covers up to the boy's shoulders, he rested his hand on the crown of the sandy blonde hair. A small grin tugged at the corner of Tony's mouth as the kid settled back into a peaceful slumber and Gibbs reflected on his father's words.

' _I reckon we're gonna have our hands full with this little one.'_

"I reckon you're right, Dad," Gibbs smiled as he settled in to see his kid safely through the night.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are still enjoying the story. Let me know what you think.


	6. Chapter 6

Several days after the barbecue, Gibbs stepped from the Judge's chambers and closed the door behind him. He loosened the tie that was threatening to choke him and took a huge calming breath.

"See?" Jenny Shepard said, nudging him with her elbow. "I told you that you had nothing to worry about. Judge Harland is an extremely fair-minded woman and she believes you are doing a wonderful job as Tony's guardian."

"Had to be sure before I gave Vance my answer," Gibbs said.

"You really thought you might lose custody if you went back to work?"

"Told the Judge I'd be Tony's full-time carer," Gibbs replied. "I won't risk losing him…for anything…or anyone."

"Whether you decide to return to work full-time or on a temporary basis, it's obvious to anyone who knows you that Tony's being well cared for. He's adjusting, he adores you and you have a better support group than most family units," Jenny assured him. "But we still have to discuss his education needs. How do you feel about home schooling, at least until he's physically ready to return to school?"

"He can do that?"

"In DC it's a simple matter of giving 15 days written notice to the Office of the State Superintendent of Education of your intention to have Tony home schooled," Jenny explained. "And, of course, finding a suitable tutor and a curriculum meets education standards."

"I've got his old school records and the entrance exam he sat for the Rhode Island Military Academy."

"That's a good start. I know someone who may be interested in the tutoring role. Her name's Cassie Yates. She's well-credentialed, great with kids and actually customises the curriculum to address the child's strengths and their development areas. I'd be happy to make some inquiries for you."

"Sounds good."

"Tony has some follow-up tests at the hospital tomorrow, doesn't he?"

Gibbs nodded, grateful for the level of personal interest Jenny had taken in the boy.

"Swing by my office when he's done, I'll have some home schooling material for you by then. In the meantime, I think you could use a coffee - I'm buying."

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Ziva had been working closely with Tony for several weeks now. The exercises she helped him perform every morning, were designed to keep his muscles supple and strong while avoiding wastage and atrophy. She had also designed a series of exercises for his arms and upper body that would help him to move his wheelchair and, eventually, to use crutches.

Despite the fact that dietician, Nikki Jardine, had introduced many new Keto recipes to the boy's diet, Ziva had noticed that Tony had started to lose weight. It was likely his weight would stabilize once it adjusted to the high fat Keto meals, but she made a mental note to mention her concerns to Gibbs.

The Israeli enjoyed working with the boy. She found him bright and chatty and his disposition very positive despite the recent loss of his family. But beneath the dimpled smile, she marvelled at just how tough he was. This child was as focussed on his recovery as any adult she had worked with and his determination to get back on his feet amazed her. But today his attention was clearly elsewhere.

"Tony?" she said, tapping his shoulder. "Tony?"

Caught out, the boy jerked his head toward her.

"Yes, Ziva?" he said, flashing an innocent smile.

She helped him into a sitting position beside her on the exercise mat.

"You know that if you do not perform these exercises correctly, they can do more harm than good, yes?"

"I'm sorry, Ziva," he sighed. "I guess I have something on my mind."

"Is there something you would like to talk about?"

He pursed his lips in thought before glancing back in her direction.

"Promise you won't tell?"

"Cross my heart," she said.

"It's Gibbs," he began.

"You are worried about Gibbs?"

"No, it's a secret."

"But I just promised that I would not tell."

Tony giggled.

"Not  _my_  secret, silly, Gibbs has a secret."

"Oh…what kind of secret."

"I don't know. It's a secret."

"Of course," she nodded seriously, biting back a grin. "Then how do you know of this secret if it is…secret?"

"He's been acting funny," Tony relied.

"Haha funny?"

"No just…sneaky. He's been doing something in the basement and he won't tell me what."

"I see."

"And a few nights ago, when he thought I was asleep, he came into my room and measured my wheelchair. Why do you think he'd do that?"

"I have no idea," she replied honestly. "But I am sure that Gibbs will tell you when he is ready."

Tony sighed deeply.

"I know…I wish I could go down there and see for myself."

"Tony, those stairs are very dangerous and you could be badly hurt," she stressed. "Promise me you will never, ever to go near them alone."

"I promise," he told her sincerely. He raised his index finger and tapped it against his pursed lips. "But…if I wasn't alone…"

Instinctively the kid reached into his arsenal and batted his long dark lashes in her direction.

"Oh, no, no, no," she laughed. "If you wish to go down to the basement, you will have to ask Gibbs to take you. Now, we must finish our exercises if you wish to go to the park with Gibbs this afternoon, yes?"

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Tony closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the sun as the warm breeze ghosted across his face. The Liberty Swing at a nearby park securely held his wheelchair in place while his foster father kept it swinging back and forth in a gentle arc.

"You're sure?" Gibbs asked for the umpteenth time. "Say the word and I'll say no."

"I like that you're a secret agent," Tony told him, reversing his ball cap and squinting in the sunlight.

"Special agent – not secret agent," Gibbs grinned, reaching over and turning the cap visor forward. "Do I look like James Bond to you?"

"Maybe if you wore a tuxedo," Tony giggled. "Push me higher, Gibbs."

"Nope."

" _Please, Gibbs."_

Gibbs suppressed a grin at the slight whiny tone in the boy's voice but recent experience with a runaway wheelchair had convinced the former Gunny that he'd have to keep the kid's adventurous streak in check.

"You fall out and land on your head, I'll have to answer to your girlfriends."

"What girlfriends?" the boy asked, reversing the cap again.

"Well, there's Abby and Kate, Nikki and Ziva, Jenny and Michelle to name a few."

"They're not my girlfriends, Gibbs, they're too old."

"What every woman wants to hear," Gibbs muttered.

"Huh?"

"Never mind. I don't have to go back to work," he said, getting back on topic.

Tony screwed up his face. The former Marine had noticed that facial exercise seemed to go hand in hand with thinking.

"Who will catch the bad men?" the boy asked.

"Bad men?"

"The bad men who hurt people," he said as his head drooped. "Like the ones who killed my Dad."

It tore at Gibbs' heart that, at just eight years old, the kid had experienced more pain and heartache than most people would in a lifetime.

"There's a lotta good people in the world, Sport. Lots of agents and cops and servicemen and women who work real hard to keep people safe."

Tony performed more facial calisthenics before responding.

"But Abby said that you were the best secret agent NCIS ever had," he said with a definite nod of his head.

Gibbs chucked the kid under the chin and turned the cap frontward again.

" _Special_ agent," he corrected once again. "It's just part time, for a few weeks. I'll be home right after lunch."

"It's okay, Gibbs, honest."

Bringing the swing to a halt, Gibbs took a knee so he could speak to Tony eye to eye.

"If you change your mind, I want you to tell me and I'll stop," he said. "You are…the  _most_  important person in my life."

Skinny arms wrapped around the agent's neck and hugged tightly.

"Except for my Dad, of course," Gibbs quipped and started to count on his fingers. "And Kate…Abby, McGee and Ducky. Halle at the roadhouse diner; George from the lumberyard and Marvin the mailman."

Tony pulled back to face his foster father, his lips twitched as he smothered a smile.

"And  _then_  me?" he asked.

"Nope, then Spot the Cocker Spaniel down the road."

"Gi-bbs," the boy whined, playfully.

"Come on," Gibbs smiled as he lowered the ramp on the swing and released the chair from the restraints. "Let's go home."

As he guided the wheelchair back to the sidewalk for their journey home, the former Marine added…

"And Sam the squirrel from the maple tree."

The agent smiled as Tony's giggles filled the air.

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They enjoyed the fifteen-minute walk from the park; admiring the neighbouring homes decorated for Halloween. Tony was still chatting excitedly about trick or treating as they turned into their driveway and a voice sounded from over the hedge.

"Good afternoon, Jethro!"

"Afternoon, Mrs K," Gibbs replied.

Winifred Kennelly and her late husband Sam had been living in their home for thirty years by the time the Gibbs family moved next door. When Sam passed away ten years ago, their children pleaded with Winnie to join them in North Carolina. Despite her failing eyesight and the walking frame she used to support her frail body, Winnie held firm – this was her marital home and she was determined to stay as long as she possibly could. Whenever time allowed, Gibbs kept her lawns mowed and performed odd jobs around her house – always rewarded by a freshly baked pie.

"Is that him?" she asked, peering at the boy. "Is that Tony?"

"Yep, this is Tony," Gibbs replied.

He gave the boy's shoulder a gentle squeeze and guided the wheelchair over to the lowest part of the fence as the elderly lady slowly made her way over to meet her newest neighbour.

"Tony, this is Mrs Kennelly."

"Pleased to meet you, Ma'am," Tony said shyly.

"Oh my," she said, looking Tony up and down approvingly. "What a fine looking boy. And so polite!"

Her arthritis-ridden hand reached out to pinch Tony's cheek and the Gunny nearly guffawed at the startled look on the boy's face.

"I've heard so much about you, dear," she gushed. "Welcome to the neighbourhood."

"Thank you, Ma'am," Tony replied, giving his cheek a subtle rub.

"Are you going trick or treating tonight?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Then you must stop by so I can see you in your costume," Winnie said as she slowly shuffled back own the path. "I'll leave my porch light on. Bye for now!"

"See you tonight," Gibbs said, pushing the wheelchair up the ramp to the front door.

"She pinched my cheek," Tony whispered, still rubbing his reddened cheek.

"Sorry about that, kid," he grinned. "Shoulda warned you she was a pincher. Used to do that to Kelly all the time."

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Gibbs had to hand it to Nikki Jardine. The time she'd spent with them a few days ago had made a huge difference to their meal times. After discussing the foods that Tony liked and those he wasn't partial to, she had introduced Keto meals that were more palatable to him, including chicken nuggets, pizza, sandwich wraps and smoothies. Not that the kid ever complained about anything but it was nice to see him tucking in to his lunch of cheesy cauliflower pancakes.

With an evening of trick or treating ahead, Gibbs suggested Tony take an afternoon nap to avoid getting over tired and possibly triggering another seizure. The boy opened his mouth to object but sighed deeply and reluctantly nodded his head in agreement.

"I'll never be able to sleep, Gibbs. I'm not even a little bit tired," Tony pointed out as the agent helped him out of his leg braces and onto the bed.

"Don't have to sleep, Sport, just get some rest."

Tussling the blonde hair, Gibbs pulled the drapes and grabbed the portable monitor. He pressed the play button on the sound system in Tony's room before leaving the boy to the dulcet tones of ol' blue eyes.

Over the past few days, Gibbs' confidence in the seizure monitor had grown to the point where he no longer spent the night dozing in a chair beside the kid's bed, although he checked on him frequently during the night. Peeping around the door a few moments later, the Gunny smiled at the sight of Tony sprawled across the bed, out like a light. He pulled the light afghan up over the boy and left to finish his project in the basement.

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Jackson sat in the over-stuffed armchair, reading the afternoon newspaper and offering encouragement to Tony as he diligently scooped the filling and seeds from a large pumpkin.

"S'gonna be a fine Jack-o'-Lantern," he said, smiling as the kid's eyes stared at the basement door. "By the time we carve a face on it, no one would guess this was your first."

Tony smiled and nodded absently. Jack returned to his newspaper, watching from the corner of his eye as the boy placed the spoon on the table and edged his wheelchair closer to the basement door.

"Not a good idea, young fella," Jack said without looking up.

"But he's been in there for hours, Grandpa Jack!" Tony replied, his curiosity overwhelming him.

"Yep, I reckon he has."

"What if he fell and hit his head and he needs us to call 911?" Tony said. "Maybe we should go down and see?"

"Hmm," Jack said, rubbing his fingers across his jaw. "You might have a point there?"

Tony brightened, and edged his chair a little closer.

"Leroy?" Jack called. "You fall and hit your head, Son?"

"Nope." The reply came from downstairs.

"You need me to call 911?" Jack asked.

"Nope," Gibbs replied again.

"You let me know if you do, okay, Son?"

"Yep."

"Best get back to that pumpkin, boy," Jack told Tony. "Abby and Tim will be here shortly with your costume and the rest of the decorations."

Mouth hanging agape, Tony looked from Jack to the basement door and back again. Shaking his head in disbelief that his clever plan had been thwarted, he awkwardly moved the chair back to the table and continued hollowing the pumpkin.

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Abby and McGee had gone all out with the decorations and Tony's eyes shone brightly as he looked at the front of the house. Pumpkin string lights, ghosts, skulls, tombstones, skeletons, spider webs and bats adorned every available space.

"What do you think, Squirt?" McGee said, crouching beside Tony's chair.

"It's crazy cool!" the boy enthused. "It's the best decorated house on the whole street!"

McGee and Abby exchanged a grin.

"It's getting late," Abby said. "Time to get into our costumes."

As they entered the house, Tony's eyes immediately darted to the door to the basement stairs.

"He's still down there?" he asked worriedly. "He's gonna miss trick or treating."

"Gibbs would never miss taking you trick or treating," Abby assured him. "Let's see if you like your costume."

Reaching into a bag, Abby removed a small set of coveralls she and Kate had modified to look like a racing car driver's flame retardant suit. It took a few seconds for the kid recognize it:- white, with vertical red, white and blue stripes running down the front left torso, the suit had a shoulder patch of the American flag on the left shoulder and the name Michael Delaney sewn onto the right side.

"The king of cool," Tony whispered ghosting his fingers over every detail. "Steve McQueen wore one just like this in the movie Le Mans."

"We know," Gibbs said from the top of the stairs. "Found the DVD in your collection."

"We're not done yet. Wait till you see what I found for you on the internet!" McGee said. "Check this baby out."

The computer specialist produced a sky blue helmet with orange racing strips and visor and the number 20 prominently displayed on both sides. "It's a replica of the one worn by Steve McQueen."

Tony's eyes widened until they looked as if they were about to pop their sockets and his mouth opened and closed several times as he searched for words.

"What do you think?" McGee asked, reacting quickly and catching the kid as Tony threw himself forward and flung a pair of skinny arms around his neck.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb as say he likes it," Abby laughed, as Tony drew her in to share the hug.

"Thank you, thank you. This is the best Halloween ever!"

"Halloween will be over if you don't move your tush," Gibbs said. "Come on, King of Cool, let's get you dressed."

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By the time they emerged from Tony's room, McGee and Abby had transformed into Gomez and Morticia Addams and were ready to hand out candy to all comers. In his wheelchair, Tony grinned from ear to ear, looking every bit like a mini-Steve McQueen as Gibbs guided him into the living room. Excusing himself for a few moments, the former Marine returned wearing a larger, more form fitting version of Tony's costume. Sans helmet, he wore a pair of safety earmuffs hanging around his neck and the words "pit crew" were blazoned across his back.

"Wow!" Abby said eyeing the agent from head to toe. "Gibbs, you look…wow!"

"Are we ready?" Tony pleaded. "Can we go, Gibbs?"

"Gotcha something," Gibbs told him. "But you gotta close your eyes. No peeking. McGee, give me a hand."

The men returned from the basement moments later, awkwardly carrying a miniature 1968 Gulf/Mirage Lightweight Racing Car. Made from thin plywood and hand painted like McQueen's car in Le Mans, they fitted the frame over the wheelchair and laughed as Tony opened his eyes and almost went into orbit.

"Ya did a fine job on that, Son," Jackson said as he moved in to take more photos. "But it sure wasn't easy keeping the boy distracted. Looks like we may have two investigators in the family."

"Can we go now, Gibbs?" Tony asked excitedly.  _"Please_ , can we go? It's dark outside."

"Still waiting for Emily and Fornell, Sport," Gibbs said, deflating Tony's excitement balloon. "Must've been held up."

"Fornell's car just pulled up out front, Boss," McGee said.

A moment later, Emily Fornell knocked on the door and greeted Gibbs with a hug. She made a polite fuss over Tony's costume and received an irritated frown and a huff of disbelief in return when she confessed she'd never heard of Steve McQueen.

Emily's hair was pulled back into braids and she wore a plaid shirt and a pair of jeans with a plastic axe slung casually over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry we're late, everyone. Dad wouldn't leave the house until dark," she added with a dramatic roll of her eyes.

"Why?" Abby asked.

"Mom arranged our costumes this year and…well…there was a bit of a mix-up?"

Tony cocked his head in confusion.

"I thought you were coming as Red Riding Hood?" he asked.

"I was…until the mix-up."

"Not one word, Gibbs!" Fornell's voice sounded from the front porch. "Not..One...Word."

Tobias Fornell stepped into the living room, resplendent in a red cape, hood and shoes and carrying a small picnic basket.

The living room fell into total silence and Tony's hand flew to his mouth to smother a giggle that was trying desperately to escape.

"My, Tobias, what big feet you have," Gibbs deadpanned as Tony and Emily dissolved into a fit of giggles.

"All the better to kick your butt if one word of this gets back to the Hoover Building," the FBI agent groused.

McGee passed Tony his candy bucket and helped him put his helmet on.

"Gentlemen, start your engines," he said as Gibbs guided the wheelchair out of the house and down the ramp.

As the small group reached the sidewalk, Fornell's voice filtered back.

"Mix-up at the store, my foot," he grumbled. "I'm betting Diane did this on purpose."

"Ya think?" Gibbs replied. "Just stick close to the shadows, Tobias. It might be Halloween but in that outfit, you could scare someone to death."

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	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been remiss in thanking those of you who have kindly left kudos for this story. Your support of this story is appreciated very much.

Gibbs rapped his knuckles lightly on the door before entering Tony's room. The boy sat quietly in his wheelchair, staring out of the window into the darkness.

"Feeling alright, Sport?" Gibbs asked quietly.

Tony shrugged one narrow shoulder but remained silent.

"Emily's still here," Gibbs told him. "Didn't want to leave until she knew you were okay."

"Tell her to go," Tony muttered, turning away from the man's scrutiny.

Gibbs reached out and turned the wheelchair until he could see the boy's face.

"You mad at Em?"

Tony hesitated before shaking his head.

"She thinks you are."

"I'm not."

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, the Gunny sighed.

"Thought we had a deal. If something upsets you, if you're lonely or sad...we were gonna talk."

"I'm fine," Tony whispered.

"Not buying, kiddo."

The blonde head drooped and Gibbs placed two fingers under the boy's chin and raised his head until their eyes met.

"Talk to me, Tony."

The boy sniffed and angrily swiped at a traitorous tear that slid down his pale cheek.

"She saw me have another seizure," he said, his face burning with embarrassment. "She was staring."

"She was worried; scared for you."

"No she wasn't. She didn't talk to me all the way home."

"Seizures are hard on everyone, Tony. Hard on you, hard for people who care about you. "

"I'm sick of having seizures!" Tony said in a raised voice. "Why aren't they going away, Gibbs? I don't wanna be different. I wanna be like I was before!"

It was the first time the kid had shown any sign of anger since he was hurt and Gibbs felt his heart twist painfully.

"I want that, too, Sport, more than anything."

"I've been taking the meds and eating the stupid Keto food," Tony said, presenting the inside of both arms and showing the dark and painful bruising from the regular blood draws. "Why won't they stop?"

"Your body needs more time to adjust."

"I just wanna be normal, Gibbs," Tony sobbed. "Why can't I be normal?"

' _Way to break my heart, kid,'_  Gibbs thought as he drew the boy against his chest and let him cry out his frustration. When, finally, the tears subsided and sobs gave way to hiccups, Gibbs gave Tony a hanky and the boy used it to wipe his face and blow his nose.

"It'll get better, Sport, I promise," Gibbs said. "Michelle, Nikki, the docs…they're all trying to find the right combination of meds and diet for you. Ziva's helping you get strong again…maybe trade that chair for some crutches someday, what do ya think?"

Tony nodded but discouragement was etched into his little face.

"You just gotta be patient and keep doing everything they say."

The boy chewed his bottom lip anxiously; his red-rimmed eyes looked up guilty and darted away again.

"Something else on your mind?" Gibbs asked.

Tentatively, Tony's left hand moved to the pocket of his racing driver coveralls and he produced a Hershey Bar. He nervously watched the man's reaction as he handed the contraband over.

"I didn't eat any, Gibbs," he said earnestly. "I really, really wanted to eat it…but I didn't. Honest."

"You understand why you can't have this, don't ya, Sport?"

"Yes," Tony replied sadly. "It's not Keto."

Reaching out his hand, Gibbs ruffled the blonde hair.

"Lotta people working real hard to help you, Tony. But you've got the most important job of all," he said. "You break the rules, eat something you're not supposed to, your seizures could get worse. You understand?"

The boy's eyes filled with unshed tears.

"I'm really sorry, Gibbs."

"Not your fault. I shoulda known you weren't ready for trick or treating."

"But I was ready! I had lots of fun…well, not counting the seizure," the boy replied sheepishly. "And I had the best costume  _ever_. I even got some Keto treats."

The boy's brow furrowed in thought.

"How do you think those people knew about my Keto diet?" he asked, his curiosity piquing. "Do you think Abby told 'em?"

The Gunny shrugged.

"Let's go ask her," the boy said, giving his wheelchair a mighty shove toward the door.

"Whoa! Wait up, Fangio," Gibbs said. " Wanna tell you something first."

"Who's Fangio?" Tony frowned.

"Never mind," the agent replied, clearing the hint of emotion from his voice.

"I know the Keto diet's hard, Sport…but you're doing great…and you're making me proud."

The boy's head dropped again and more anxious lip chewing ensued.

"Tony?"

Reaching behind his back, Tony produced a small bag of Candy Corn. The former Marine bit back a smile before reaching over and gently holding the boy by his chin.

"Do I gotta to frisk you or is that it?" Gibbs asked playfully.

Giggling, the boy squirmed and tried to move his wheelchair out of reach.

"That's it," he said, flashing his dimples cheekily. "Except for the Tootsie Roll and Mars Bar in my socks."

"Oh, we got us a wise guy," Gibbs quipped, leaning forward and grabbing hold of Tony's feet. "How bout we hold you up by the ankles and see what falls out."

"No, no, no!" Tony squealed. "I haven't got anymore, Gibbs, I promise, I promise!"

The Gunny smiled, enjoying the sound of the boy's laughter. He dropped a quick kiss on the top of the blonde head and guided the wheelchair back toward the living room.

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Still wearing her Morticia Addams costume, Abby waved goodnight to a rowdy group of teenage zombies and vampires as they departed with the last of the candy. Closing the door and switching off the porch light, she returned to the dining room and smiled as Tony emptied a large bag of sugary loot onto the table.

"Oh my God, Tony, look at all this!" she exclaimed. "You collected all this for the kids at the hospital?"

"Yep," Tony replied, feeling rather pleased with himself.

He surveyed the large collection of Peanut Butter Cups and Hershey Bars, Milky Ways, Snickers, Twizzlers, Skittles and Candy Corn but frowned and did a quick mental inventory of the contents on the table. His eyes narrowed as he turned to face McGee.

"What?" McGee said, wiping the Nutter Butter crumbs from his mouth.

Rolling his eyes and shaking his head reproachfully, Tony returned his attention to the table as, after a little prompting and cajoling from her father, Emily reluctantly added a sizeable portion from her own candy collection. McGee reached for another Nutter Butter when Jackson slapped his hand and quickly produced a large plastic bag to secure the candy out of sight until it was needed.

"What's in the other bag?" Jack asked. "That more candy?"

"Wait til you see this, Grandpa Jack!" Tony enthused as he emptied the contents onto the table.

A Rubik's cube, a packet of Sea Monkeys, a yoyo, a baseball and a magnifying glass were among an assortment of neatly sealed packages of Keto treats. A blueberry muffin, chocolate fudge, ginger bread cookies, banana-choc nut muffin, peanut butter cookies and popcorn – all gifts from Tony's neighbours and all made to Keto specifications.

"Wow!" Abby exclaimed. "Look at all this great stuff. I  _love_  Sea Monkeys. When I was your age I had, like, a whole Sea Monkey kingdom."

"How do you think they found out about your Keto diet?" McGee asked examining one of the packages.

"Abby told them," Tony replied.

"No I didn't," she countered.

"Yes, you did," Tony said smiled knowingly.

"Did not."

"Did too."

"I swear it wasn't me," she said, raising her hand.

"You pinky swear?" the boy asked.

"Absolutely," Abby said, linking her pinky with Tony's. "I mean, I would have told them if I'd thought of it, Short Stuff and I feel bad that I didn't…think of it, that is. But I really didn't tell anyone."

Tony screwed his face up in confusion.

"Then how did they know?"

"It's Halloween," McGee said. "Lots of strange and spooky things happen on Halloween."

"But-"

"Who's for a nice cup of hot chocolate?" Jack asked; conveniently changing the topic.

"Keto hot chocolate, Grandpa Jack?" Tony asked.

"Sure! You and Emily go wait in the living room and I'll bring it in."

"I'll help," Abby volunteered, threading her arm through Jack's and disappearing into the kitchen as Emily helped Tony steer his wheelchair into the living room.

The silence between the two children was still a little strained as she sat on the couch opposite him.

Tony's eyes darted to Gibbs, who gave him an encouraging nod. The boy took a deep breath.

"Emily," he muttered. "I'm sorry about before."

"That's okay," Emily replied with a nonchalant shrug. "It wasn't your fault."

"I'm sorry you were scared."

Emily huffed and rolled her eyes.

"I wasn't scared!" she scoffed. "Well, maybe a little. Does it…does it hurt?"

Tony shook his head.

"Most times, I don't even remember them."

"I talked to my Dad and to your…to Gibbs," She told him. "You don't have to worry, Tony. I know exactly what to do if you have another seizure and there's no adults around."

"O-kay," Tony said, not feeling very reassured.

"It must be awful sometimes. My friend Lindy has real bad asthma, it's kinda the same thing."

"No it's not," Tony frowned.

"Sure it is. She has to use a puffer-thing to help her breathe and sometimes she can't run or play but she's still my best friend. She's really smart  _and_  she's the most popular girl in my class - everybody likes her."

"Really?"

"Sure, she used to get teased about it but hardly anyone teases her now," Emily said. " What about the other kind? Do they hurt?"

"What other kind?"

"You know, the other seizures. The ones where you kinda roll your eyes and stare into space?"

"I don't really remember them either but they feel kinda weird sometimes. Kinda like when you're watching a movie and it skips ahead and you don't know what happened."

Emily placed her hand over her mouth to smother a giggle.

Tony dropped his head.

"It's not funny?" he said, battling tears.

"Oh, I wasn't laughing at you, Tony, honest!" Emily replied. "I was just thinking that my Dad sometimes rolls his eyes and stares into space when he's talking to my Mom…and he doesn't even have epilepsy."

The sound of giggling children from the living room brought smiles to the agents still seated at the dining table.

"Sounds like they've worked things out," McGee said.

"Kids communicate better than adults," Gibbs replied.

"According to Diane, an Ottoman communicates better than us," Fornell quipped.

"I'd still like to know how your neighbours knew about Tony's Keto diet?" McGee said.

Jackson and Abby returned from the kitchen, the forensic scientist carrying a tray laden with hot chocolate and coffee.

"I reckon we might have solved the mystery," Jack said, holding up a piece of paper. "We found this at the back of the Keto recipe book."

Adjusting his glasses and clearing his throat, Jack began to read aloud.

**_Dear neighbour,_ **

**_Special Agent Gibbs, recently fostered a very special 8-year-old boy named Tony._ **

**_Tony suffers from epilepsy and is on a very strict Ketogenic diet to reduce his seizures. This will be his first Halloween since starting the diet and, unfortunately, he cannot have any of the usual candy, chips or cookies._ **

**_This makes Halloween very challenging for him but with your help, I am sure he can enjoy the holiday despite its restrictions. In the enclosed packaging is a specially made treat that Tony can eat without jeopardising his diet. We would be very grateful if you would give it to him when he calls at your home tonight. He will be wearing a racing car driver costume and he is wheelchair bound._ **

**_Thanking you, in advance, for helping to make this night special for Tony._ **

**_Happy Halloween._ **

**_Nikki Jardine_ **

**_On behalf of Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs_ **

"Aww," Abby said. "That's so sweet."

"Surprised she didn't supply latex gloves and hand wipes," McGee quipped, receiving a sharp look from Gibbs. "Sorry, Boss."

"Looks like Tony's dietician takes her job very seriously. I knew I liked that young lady," Jackson added before calling the kids back to the dining room.

"I'd say this was a pretty good night," Fornell said, raising his coffee mug. "Happy Halloween, everyone!"

As the others echoed the toast and sipped from their beverages, Gibbs looked at the beaming smile and the milky moustache on his foster son's face.

' _Chalk up another one for Jardine,_ ' he thought.

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Looking much younger than his eight years, Tony lay in a hospital bed, sleeping off the residual effects of a light sedative. Long dark lashes rested on his pale cheeks and his lips were slightly parted. The kid had been prodded and poked and had undergone a series of MRI's, PET scans, EEG's and blood tests as part of a regular medical assessment on his epilepsy and his spinal injury.

As Tony murmured softly in his sleep, Gibbs brushed the blonde bangs from the boy's face. Despite last night's semi-meltdown, the kid had endured the hours of medical tests like a champ. Not for the first time, the former Marine marvelled at the courage and resilience of the small boy.

"How's he doing?" Jack asked, entering the room.

"He did great," Gibbs replied.

"Have you told him I'm going back to Stillwater?" Jackson asked.

"Not yet."

"I'd like to tell him myself, if that's okay with you?"

Gibbs nodded in agreement.

"I tell ya, Son, it's getting harder to go home and leave that boy behind."

"I know, Dad."

Gibbs' lips twitched in a small smile as the boy opened bleary green eyes.

"Gibbs?" he rasped.

"Right here, Sport," the Gunny replied. "How you doing?"

"Mmm…I'm hungry," Tony said, fisting his eyes.

"Well now, that's a good sign!" Jackson chuckled.

"When can I go home?"

Despite being reassured many times that he was only in the hospital for tests, Gibbs knew the boy was anxious to leave.

"Soon as you've had something to eat," he replied. "Grandpa Jack's gonna help you deliver your candy, then he'll take you home."

"Play your cards right, young fella, and we might stop at the park," Jack added.

Tony had enjoyed his few outings to the park and was particularly pleased that it had a Liberty swing that catered for children in wheelchairs. He nodded excitedly and then frowned as realisation struck.

"You're not coming?" he asked Gibbs.

"Not yet. Gotta meet with Doc McNally this afternoon."

"But then you're coming home, right?"

"Right," Gibbs told him, noting that the kid was always a little clingy in the hospital.

They chatted casually as Tony choked down his lunch of Keto mac and cheese that, he confided, was not as tasty as the one Nikki makes for him. After helping him dress and lifting him back into his wheelchair, he waved to Gibbs as Jackson wheeled him toward the elevator to share his Halloween candy with the kids in the children's ward.

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Gibbs arrived at Doctor McNally's office for the scheduled meeting and found the "usual suspects" already seated at the conference table. Ducky, Jenny and Ziva with specialist epilepsy nurse, Michelle Davis and dietician, Nikki Jardine all played an important role in Tony's welfare and Gibbs had specifically requested their presence and input.

It had been two weeks since Tony commenced the Keto diet and there had been a marginal reduction in the number of absence and grand mal seizures the boy suffered. It was not unusual for a child's metabolism to take several weeks to adjust to the new diet and McNally was optimistic they were on the right track. In addition,Tony's red and white blood cell counts, blood sugar, blood calcium and electrolyte levels were within acceptable range and his liver and kidney function was good.

Despite this, physical therapist, Ziva David, had reported a worrying loss of muscle mass and confirmed that the boy had lost four pounds. The loss of muscle mass had occurred despite the amount of work they were doing to build and strengthen his small frame. In consultation with Doctor McNally, Nikki suggested they increase Tony's daily calorie intake to help prevent any further weight loss.

But Gibbs was more than a little frustrated to learn that MRI and CT scans had shown no reduction in the swelling around the boy's spine. Lab results had indicated that the anti-convulsion meds had been cancelling the effects of the corticosteroids and McNally ordered a change in meds effective immediately.

"The fact that Tony has been working with Ziva since the injury occurred is very beneficial but we would like to add hydrotherapy to Tony's physical therapy regime," the doctor said.

"You wanna put him in the water?" Gibbs asked.

"At least twice a week," McNally replied.

"Why?"

"Tony has been working very hard but he tires easily," Ziva explained. "As you know, fatigue is a trigger for seizures. We have found that the aquatic environment not only provides an enjoyable variation but the water resistance means the child works physically harder and can exercise longer without tiring."

"What if he has a seizure?" Gibbs asked.

"He will wear a floatation vest and I will be by his side every moment," Ziva replied.

"So will I," Gibbs insisted. "No one puts my kid in the water without me being there."

"Jethro!" Ducky scolded.

"It is quite alright, Ducky," Ziva said. "If it will make Gibbs feel more comfortable, I have no problem with him being present during Tony's hydrotherapy sessions."

The meeting wrapped up quickly with Nikki requested to devise a new meal plan catering for Tony's increased calorie intake, Michelle would continue calling at the house to monitor the boy's blood levels and Ziva would start Tony on hydrotherapy treatments twice a week.

"I'll have the pharmacy prepare Tony's new meds and you can collect them when you leave," McNally told Gibbs. "Unless there are any other issues, I suggest we meet again for Tony's next appointment in two weeks' time."

As they gathered their notes and left to attend to the necessary changes, they realised they had just participated in the first of many such meetings as Team Tony.

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After spending a pleasant hour in the park, Jackson guided Tony's wheelchair down the driveway toward the house.

"But why do you have to go?" Tony asked again.

"Stillwater is my home, Son," Jack explained. "I have the store and responsibilities."

Tony released a sigh that came from his boot tops.

"You could come and live with us?" Tony suggested. "Gibbs won't mind."

Jackson stopped the chair and stood over the boy.

"I have my own home, Tony," he said.

"Please don't go, Grandpa Jack,  _please_."

Jack felt an ache in his heart.

"I'll be back for Thanksgiving, Son, and I reckon Leroy will drive you up to see me at Stillwater if we-"

Tony gasped and his small body stiffened; the look of fear in his eyes filled Jackson with apprehension and dread.

"Tony?" the man said cupping his hand to the boy's face. "Tony, can you hear me, Son?"

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Gibbs tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel as he waited for the traffic signal to turn green. His mind was still buzzing from the morning's meetings and he was anxious to get home and talk to Tony about the planned changes. He and Tony were still in the transition period - still trying to find a routine that would benefit the boy physically as well as emotionally - but with Jack heading back to Stillwater, changes to the boy's treatments and a pile of reading material on home schooling, the former Marine hoped nothing would fall through the cracks.

Turning into his street, his heart all but stopped when he caught a glimpse of an ambulance, disappearing around the far corner with lights and sirens blazing. Instinctively, he flattened his foot on the accelerator and sped down the quiet street to his home. Arriving in his driveway with a screech of tyres, he parked next to Jack's truck and launched himself from the car. He was running before he realised it, calling loudly for his father and Tony as he fumbled with the lock and shouldered the door open. His chest heaved and he fought the surge of panic as he stood in the overwhelming silence of the empty house.

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	8. Chapter 8

Moving quickly from room to room the former Marine quickly confirmed the house was empty and viciously suppressed the sick feeling in his gut. Drawing his cell from his jacket pocket, he pressed the speed dial for McGee as he locked the door behind him and quickly jogged back to his car.

"Boss?"

"McGee, an ambulance just left my house. Call the dispatcher at Emergency Services. Find out what hospital they're headed to and-"

Gibbs stopped as movement in his peripheral caught his attention. He gasped as he recognised his father waving his arms from the front porch of the neighbouring home.

"Hold on," he said into the phone as he leaped from the car and vaulted the low fence into Mrs Kennelly's yard.

"Dad? What the hell's going on? Where's Tony?"

"Tony's fine, Leroy," Jackson replied, placing a calming hand on his son's shoulder. "He's inside; come on in."

Moving passed his father and into the house, Gibbs immediately spotted Tony seated in his wheelchair on the far side of the living room. His frightened eyes looked much too large for his small pale face. Lifting his arms in a silent plea, Gibbs responded by lifting the boy from his chair and into the safety of his arms. Tony tucked his face under his foster father's chin and Gibbs felt the kid's relief as a wisp of shaky breath tickled his neck.

"I gotcha," he whispered. "I gotcha."

They remained in that position for a long moment, both receiving strength from the other's presence. Jackson leaned forward and took the cell from his son's unresistant grasp.

"Hello? No, Tim, it's me, Jackson," he said to the near frantic voice on the phone. "No, everything's fine, it was just a misunderstanding. Tony's fine, too…I'll be sure to tell him. Goodnight, Tim."

He turned to see Gibbs lower the child back into his chair, resting his hand gently on the nape of the boy's neck as if reluctant to break contact.

"What happened?" Gibbs asked. "Where's Mrs K?"

"On her way to the hospital with a suspected broken hip," Jack replied.

"Aw, damn."

"We were coming home from the park when Tony heard her crying. Took a while for me to force the door and there she was, lying right there on the floor. She'd been there all darn night."

"How is she?"

"Dehydrated and in a lot of pain. She'll need rehab, of course, but she's gonna be fine," Jack said. "You oughta know, Son, the paramedic's said if Tony hadn't heard her crying, she may not have made it through another night."

Gibbs turned to look at the boy who was chewing his bottom lip anxiously and fighting tears. Taking a knee by the boy's side he cupped his face in his hand.

"How you doing?"

Tony shrugged one shoulder but remained silent.

"You did good, Sport. You did real good."

"I didn't do anything," Tony whispered. "Grandpa Jack got the door open and called 911."

"You heard Mrs K crying and you told your Grandpa Jack," Gibbs said. "I'm real proud of you."

"You are?" Tony said, his nose crinkling in confusion.

Gibbs wrapped his arm around the boy's neck in a gentle headlock.

"You bet I am," he said, knuckling the blonde hair playfully and delighting in the kid's laughter.

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Using a frayed and threadbare rag, Gibbs wiped the grease from his hands and removed the soldering iron from his now steaming cup of coffee. Taking a mouthful, he relished the warmth and the flavour as he leaned against the workbench in his garage. He couldn't remember the last time he worked in his garage rather than his preferred basement. But ever since a highly inquisitive eight-year-old boy had entered his life, it had become almost impossible to sneak anything larger than a packet of TicTacs into the house. His eyes grew dim with recall as he cast his mind back over a particularly hectic month.

_Gibbs had barely held his emotions at bay as he watched the tearful boy wrap his skinny arms around the elderly man's neck and beg him not to return to Stillwater. Although Jack would never admit it, Gibbs was almost certain he'd seen moisture forming in his father's eyes as he told Tony why he had to leave. McGee had eased the pain of separation a little by setting up Skype accounts for Tony and Jack who spoke a couple of times a week._

The former Marine had to admit that, after all those years of cold silence, he had gotten used to having his father around. For the first time in many years, they found they could talk without the bitter regrets of the past tainting every conversation. Without hesitation, Jack had taken Tony into his heart and the boy was crazy about his Grandpa Jack.

_Jack's departure had thrown a huge wrench into the delicate balance between order and total chaos that existed in the Gibbs/DiNozzo home and the former Marine had struggled to establish a routine. Never one_   _for sleeping in, he rose early each morning and began the household chores. When Tony woke up, he'd help him bathe and dress and if all went according to plan, they enjoyed a quiet breakfast together before Ziva arrived for Tony's physical therapy._

_Four weeks ago, Ziva had altered Tony's treatment plan to include two hydrotherapy sessions a week in the indoor pool at the nearby rehab centre. The boy was apprehensive at first but quickly grew to enjoy the variation in his treatment and after insisting on being present for the hydrotherapy sessions, Gibbs was satisfied that his kid was safe in Ziva's care and he used the time to run errands._

_Preparing Tony's Keto meals was a time-consuming task that required all ingredients to be precisely weighed and measured. But even that became much easier when Gibbs learned to prepare enough food for several meals that could be frozen and served_   _another day. Tony was still having seizures but his specialist, Doctor McNally, was confident progress was slowly being made._

_Two weeks ago, Team Tony acquired another member when Gibbs employed Cassie Yates as Tony's home tutor three afternoons a week. Cassie's specialty was teaching children with learning or physical disabilities and she had Tony tested to determine his strengths and development areas. The results confirmed that the boy was very bright for his age but not abnormally so. However, Cassie was intrigued by his inquisitive mind and his problem solving skills. Tony had an uncanny ability to look outside the box to find solutions very few would find._

_Tony was usually an easy-going kid who had been extraordinarily tolerant of the intense and ongoing medical treatments and the overwhelming changes to his life. So Gibbs was more than a little surprised when the kid complained loudly about his new standing frame. But as he often spent up to ten hours a day sitting in his chair, Tony needed to spend time every day in an upright position to avoid the onset of problems such as bone density, spasticity and urinary and bowel infection._

_The standing frame was a strange looking contraption that would have looked right at home at the moon landing. It was a cumbersome apparatus with a blue steel frame, casters and lots of padded components but it allowed the boy to be securely and comfortably supported in six different weight bearing positions. Despite the cajoling and encouragement from everyone on Team Tony, the boy hated the restrictiveness of the standing frame and was often frustrated to the point of tears. Surprisingly, it was an off the cuff remark from McGee that altered Tony's point of view. The IT specialist had swung by one afternoon to deliver some Xbox games made especially for kids with epilepsy. He watched as Tony's standing frame smoothly morphed from the supine position to the standing position._

_"Sweet!" he said. "Looks like you've got your very own Bluestreak there, Squirt."_

_Although the Transformers reference was lost on Gibbs, Tony's eyes lit up, his active imagination kicked in and his attitude to his standing frame immediately changed for the better._

The voices and music from the training room shook him from his musing and told him that Tony's physical therapy session was nearing completion. The Gunny was no aficionado but even he recognized a tango rhythm when he heard it. Gibbs had to hand to the Ziva - she worked the kid hard but finished every session with a fun activity – something that was so enjoyable, Tony didn't even realise he was still working. Wheelchair basketball, soccer, keeping a balloon in the air with his head - all of these activities increased the boy's coordination of the chair and worked his upper body. Now there was the Tango and Gibbs rushed back into the house to take a look.

Keeping time with the music, Ziva grasped Tony's hands and took several sharp, elongated steps across the room, the wheelchair gliding effortlessly beside her. Tony repeatedly turned left instead of right and right instead of left, overwhelmed by the staccato movements and characteristic Tango 'head snaps.' Leaning in to hold him in an open embrace, the Israeli stamped her feet to the beat before dancing them back in the opposite direction and wincing as Tony's chair ran over her toes. With her dance partner dissolving into a fit of giggles, Ziva repeated the routine several times before the music climaxed and she dramatically tilted the wheelchair backward as the final beat sounded. Returning the chair to an upright position, Ziva curtsied to Tony and received a bashful bow in return.

"First time I've seen anyone with two left wheels," Gibbs said from the doorway as Tony's head swiveled toward him.

"Did you see us, Gibbs?" he asked excitedly. "We were dancing!"

"You keep that up, we'll have to buy Ziva some steel-capped boots."

"Sorry, Ziva," Tony grimaced. "I guess I'm not very good yet."

"Nonsense," Ziva said. "Dancing is not about being good, it is about having fun."

"I did have fun," Tony told her.

"Then you have experienced the magic of dance," she replied, cupping his cheek. "And now, it is time for me to leave. I will see you tomorrow, yes?"

Grabbing her things, Ziva said her goodbyes and left the house as Tony and Gibbs moved to the kitchen to prepare lunch.

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There was no doubt that Gibbs was genuinely grateful for the care and dedication of Team Tony but on the days when the boy had no home schooling, the Gunny relished the quiet time with his kid.

"Gibbs?" Tony asked as he nibbled on his Keto lunch of chicken nuggets.

"Tony."

"Are we going to the park today?"

"When you finish your lunch," he replied, not taking his eyes from the Washington Post crossword.

Tony nodded happily and picked up another nugget.

"Can we take some bread for the ducks?"

"Yep," the Gunny replied. "Twenty-four down – Who was known as the first lady of song?"

"Ella Fitzgerald," Tony replied without hesitation. "White or brown, Gibbs?"

"The ducks?"

"Not the ducks, the bread," Tony giggled. "What kind of bread will we take?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Maybe the ducks only like one kind. What if we take the wrong one?"

"They like both."

"But how do you know?"

"I know."

"But-"

"Enough with the ducks," Gibbs growled playfully. "Eat your lunch."

He watched as Tony dipped his nugget into the mayonnaise and popped it into his mouth chewing thoughtfully.

"Don't forget we have to check Mrs K's mail box," Tony said around a mouthful of nugget.

"I know."

"I'm just reminding you."

"I remembered."

"I'm reminding you because you forgot one time."

"Three weeks ago!" the Gunny defended. "Haven't forgotten since."

"That's because I've been reminding you," Tony smiled sweetly.

"Ya think?"

"Uh-huh."

Gibbs' attention returned to the crossword.

"Five across - real name of Hollywood legend Cary Grant?" he asked.

"Archibald Leach," the kid replied without batting an eye. "Is it cold outside, Gibbs? Maybe I'll need a sweater."

"It's not cold."

"Are you sure? Cause that's what you said last time and I almost froze to death."

Gibbs bit back a smile at the kid's melodrama. He threw out his hand just in time to anchor the wheelchair in place as Tony tried to push it from the table.

"Where you going?"

"To get a sweater."

"I'll get the sweater, you eat."

"No offence, Gibbs, but last time you got the wrong one," he said, patting the agent's hand benevolently.

"You said the blue sweater. I got the blue sweater!"

"You got the light blue sweater from the Burberry summer range," Tony said shaking his head at the memory. "It's November, I needed the dark blue sweater from the fall collection."

"Blue's blue," Gibbs replied.

Tony looked shocked and then sighed sadly at his foster father's lack of fashion etiquette. Gibbs stabbed a nugget with a fork and handed it to the boy.

"Eat," he insisted. "I'll get your sweater."

As the agent started up the hall, Tony's voice called out to him.

"Hey, Gibbs, it's the dark blue sweater with the cable knitted front and the crew neck, not the light blue sweater with the plain front and the v-neck…just so you know. And if you see the dark blue sweater with the red and white stripe, that's the Tommy Hilfiger. But don't worry if you get the wrong one, you can always take it back and get the right one. And try not to-"

Gibbs entered the boy's room with Tony still calling instructions from the other room.

' _Yep,'_  he told himself.  _'Gotta love that quiet time with my kid.'_

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Satisfied that it only took two tries to get the right sweater, Gibbs packed a backpack with a thermos of coffee, a drink for Tony, a selection of white and brown bread for the fussy ducks and several Keto snacks. He turned to see the kid eyeing him eagerly.

"Let's go," the agent said, guiding Tony's wheelchair toward the back door.

"Why are we going this way?" the boy asked. "We usually go out the front door."

"Gotta check something in the garage," Gibbs told him, suppressing a grin.

He pushed the chair down the back ramp and through the open door of the garage, leaning forward so he could see the kid's expression.

"Thought we might take this," he said. "What do ya, think?"

Of all the facial expressions in the kid's repertoire, the "I'm so happy I'm lost for words" look was one of Gibbs' favourites.

On previous visits to the park, Gibbs had noticed Tony looking on wistfully as other kids happily rode by on their skateboards and bicycles. His kid couldn't have a bike of his own but maybe he could have the next best thing.

Gibbs had rescued the old tandem bicycle from a dumpster. He'd sanded it back, repainted it and replaced the wheels and the chain mechanism. A specially designed lightweight seat was fitted on the back, with restraints to hold the boy securely in case he suffered a seizure. Foot straps were added to hold Tony's feet in place as the back pedals rotated and an extra mirror had been fixed to the handlebars so Gibbs could see the boy without turning around.

"It's…it's…" Tony stuttered.

"How 'bout it?" Gibbs said, handing the boy a helmet. "Wanna take her for a spin?"

After securing the boy in the rear seat, Gibbs guided the bike to the sidewalk before climbing aboard and heading down the road toward the park. His eyes darted to the mirror and the sight of Tony's wide smile triggered a matching smile of his own.

Arriving at the park, Gibbs lifted Tony from the bike, carried him to the face-to-face glider swing and climbed in opposite him. The boy was eerily silent as they swung gently back and forth; he closed his eyes and tilted his face toward the sun.

"You okay?"

Tony nodded his head.

"I forgot what it feels like," he whispered.

"Forgot like what feels like?"

"Riding my bike…I miss it."

Gibbs felt his gut tighten as he realised that Tony was talking about more than his bike. He missed running and jumping and climbing trees and playing basketball…he missed being a little boy. The former Marine had been so intent on ensuring that the kid was safe and receiving the best treatment available that he had forgotten to ensure that the kid was a kid. He remembered the words Ducky had said to him several weeks ago…

"The greatest battle you will face, Jethro, is learning how to balance your need to protect Anthony with his need to be a young boy."

He looked at the little boy and made a silent vow to do whatever it took to put the fun back into Tony's childhood.

"Hey," he said. "You wanna try the monkey bars?"

"Really?"

"Let's see what you got," Gibbs challenged.

He carried the boy to the climbing apparatus and lifted him until he could reach the bars but Tony hesitated and turned to his foster father.

"What if I have a seizure?"

"I'm right here on your six," the Gunny told him, lifting the boy again until he gripped the bars. "I won't let you fall, Tony. I gotcha."

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	9. Chapter 9

With Gibbs bearing most of the kid's weight, it only took two trips across the monkey bars before Tony's independent streak came to the fore. Wriggling in the Gunny's arms he turned to face his foster father.

"Let me try it by myself this time," he said. "Please, Gibbs?"

The climbing apparatus wasn't very high and the playground had that spongy, rubber surface underfoot but the boy caught the reluctance in the man's eyes.

"It's okay, Gibbs, really," he reassured the agent.

Releasing a deep sigh, Gibbs lifted Tony until he could reach the first rung. Letting him go and stepping away was harder than he thought possible but he had to show the boy that he believed in him, even if it resulted in a few spills along the way.

"All yours, Sport."

Unable to use his legs to build momentum, the boy hung from the first rung by his spindly arms. He set his jaw determinedly and reached out his right arm for the next rung. Concentration and purpose was etched into the young face as he brought his left hand forward to meet the right. He took several deep breaths; his eyes darting in Gibbs direction as the former Marine nodded his head in silent encouragement. The process continued until Tony reached the second last rung. His arms and shoulders burned from bearing his weight and his skin glistened from the exertion. It had been a mighty effort but the kid was exhausted and Gibbs stepped forward to help him.

"No, Gibbs!" he panted. "I can…I can do it."

Against his better judgement, Gibbs stepped back. A sense of pride surged through his veins as he watched the young boy ignore his pain and fatigue and reach out for the final rung with his right hand. He stayed in that position – hands on two different rungs - for a long moment; lacking the energy to bring his left hand forward to join the right and hanging on by sheer determination.

"You got this, Sport," Gibbs quietly encouraged.

The expression on the boy's face transformed from one of exhaustion to a look of tenacity that belied his eight years. Taking a deep breath, Tony summoned the last of his energy and flung his left arm forward until he felt his fingers wrap tightly around the final rung. Unable to resist any longer the Gunny rushed forward and took the unresisting boy securely into his arms. Absolutely spent, Tony leaned against him; his chest heaving with exertion as he tucked his face under the agent's chin.

"I did it, Gibbs," he puffed.

"Darn right you did," the agent said, checking his language and giving the kid a little squeeze.

"Told ya that…I could do it."

Gibbs frowned at the long pause; recognising a small absence seizure that Tony didn't even notice.

"Come on, Tarzan, let's get you home."

"But we just got here! We haven't even fed the ducks yet."

"You can hardly hold your head up."

"I'm fine," Tony said, trying his best to look re-energised as the agent eyed him sceptically. " _Please,_  Gibbs. I like it here. It's nice and...I like it when it's just us."

Gibbs grinned and ruffled the blonde hair. Ever since the boy woke up in a hospital bed, his life had been filled with doctors, nurses, physical therapists, dieticians, home tutors and hospital caseworkers. Was it any wonder that he longed for some quiet one-on-one time?

The Gunny looked at the hopeful green eyes and felt another layer of ice melt from his heart. Who was he kidding? The badass Marine was putty in the kid's hands when he looked at him like that but Gibbs knew fatigue was a trigger for seizures. He squeezed the boy tighter, eliciting a tiny squawk and scooped the backpack from the ground nearby. Still holding the boy close, he walked back to the glider swing and climbed aboard. Opening the backpack, he removed Tony's Keto snack and drink.

"Eat, drink and rest," he said as he reached for his coffee thermos. "Then we'll go feed the ducks."

They sat back against the seat, enjoying the warm sunshine and easing the swing into a gentle motion. Several moments passed before Tony spoke again.

"Gibbs, are you going back to work?"

"Trying to get rid of me?"

"No, I was just wondering, that's all."

"Not for a while," Gibbs replied.

"I thought you said you were," Tony continued.

"Director's temporarily assigned two other agents to help Kate and McGee."

"But it's your team, Gibbs. You're the lead secret agent."

"Special agent," Gibbs corrected without thinking.

The tiny quirk of the boy's lips told the Gunny he'd unwittingly become the straight man for an eight-year-old budding comedian - Tony was well-aware of the difference between special agent and secret agent. The boy's face grew serious.

"I think you should go back to work," he said. "What you do is very important."

"Something came up that's more important."

"What?" Tony asked.

"You," Gibbs said, placing a chaste kiss on the blonde head. "Finish your snack, hungry ducks are waiting."

Tony looked back anxiously in the direction of their bicycle.

"What if someone tries to steal our bike?" he asked.

"They won't," Gibbs replied.

"But what if they do? Do you have your gun?"

Gibbs did a quick double take and huffed a disbelieving laugh.

"Ya want me to shoot 'em?" he asked.

"Of course not!" Tony replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I was thinking you could fire a warning shot over their heads."

Gibbs grabbed the boy in a gentle headlock.

"No more Bonanza re-runs for you," he said smiling as the kid squirmed and laughed.

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When Gibbs was sure the kid was rested, he piggybacked Tony from the playground, down the gentle slope, to a park bench near the edge of the pond. The ducks swimming leisurely in the middle of the pond, immediately changed direction and made for the shore while others, sensing the imminent feast, quacked and waddled toward the man and the boy. The former Marine watched as Tony took pieces of bread from a paper bag and threw them to the hungry fowl.

"See Gibbs," he said. "The white duck ate the white bread and the brown duck ate the brown bread. Do you have your cell? I think I should call Abby; this could be a major scientific discovery or something."

"Maybe," the man nodded. "Or it could be that you threw the white bread closer to the white duck and the brown bread closer to the brown duck."

Tony opened his mouth to reply when a thump against the back of the bench marked the arrival of an orange Frisbee. As the ducks startled and scurried back to the safety of the pond, Gibbs and Tony turned to see a large dog running quickly in their direction. The Gunny pulled the boy protectively against him but the dog only had eyes for the Frisbee. Its large paws held the plastic toy in place while he chewed it with his powerful jaws.

"It's okay," a female voice called out from behind them. "It's okay…he won't hurt you."

A young, raven-haired woman in a cut-off tank top that revealed her well-toned abs, jogged quickly toward them.

"I'm sorry," she said as she approached. "The breeze took it way off course and I- Gibbs?"

"Commander?"

"What are you doing here? I mean, I can see what you're doing but I…" the commander's eyes flicked to Tony who was still staring at the dog. "I know it's been a while, Gibbs, but I didn't hear you'd remarried."

"I didn't," Gibbs told her without elaborating. He placed his hand on the boy's back to get his attention. "Tony, say hello to Commander Faith Coleman. The commander works at the Navy yard."

"Hi, Commander," Tony said shyly. "Is this really your dog?"

"Yep, this is my dog, Kort," she replied.

Tony reached out a hand toward the dog but Gibbs caught his wrist.

"It's okay," Faith told him. "He looks mean but he won't hurt him."

"He's very big," Tony said warily.

"He's a Rhodesian Ridgeback," the commander said. "In South Africa, hunters used to use dogs like Kort to catch lions."

Tony's eyes grew impossibly wide as he stared at the dog in awe.

"What happened to his eye?" he asked, noticing that one of the dog's eyes was missing.

"I'm not sure. It was like that when I got him from the rescue centre. Nobody else wanted him."

"Lots of animals have no one to look after them," the boy sighed with a sad shake of his head. "If I had a dog, I would take really good care of him and play with him all the time."

Gibbs suppressed a grin and chose to ignore the not-so-subtle hint. Tony inched his hand forward again, then thought better of it when the Gunny shot him a warning look.

"Do you have any pets at home?" Faith asked.

"I have sea monkeys," he replied. "They're not real monkeys or anything. Abby says they're really just brine shrimp."

"Well, if anyone would know something like that it's Abby," Faith told him. "I bet you didn't know that I know Abby and Kate, McGee and Ducky. In fact, I know…."

The commander stopped mid-sentence; her attention drawn to the boy whose sudden blank stare was disconcerting.

"Gibbs?"

The Gunny cupped Tony's face with his hand and drew him close to his side.

"Tony has epilepsy. He's having a seizure."

"Should I call an ambulance?"

"Just give us a minute. It'll be over soon."

Faith stepped away; crouching beside the dog but watching the boy's still face with concern. Gibbs leaned in, speaking barely audible encouragement and stroking Tony's cheek with his thumb until the boy began to blink his eyes and his awareness returned. The seizure had lasted less than a minute, but in Tony's mind, no time had passed at all. Instinctively a terrifyingly sick feeling enveloped him and he pressed his face against his foster father's chest.

"It's over, Sport," Gibbs said, rubbing his hand over the boy's back. "I gotcha."

Tony felt something wet nudge against his arm and turned to see the one-eyed dog standing beside him. It dropper the Frisbee at the boy's feet.

"I think Kort wants to play," Faith said. "What do you think, Tony?"

Tony shook his head and turned his face away only to have the dog nudge him again, this time adding a little whine. Again, the boy turned to look at Kort, who placed his big paw onto Tony's knee and cocked his head beseechingly. The kid's lips twitched in a small smile and he reached for the Frisbee and tossed it several yards away. In a tangle of long legs, the dog almost fell over itself in its haste to chase after the toy. Stooping, he grasped it in his mouth and obediently trotted back to return it to Tony. The boy tossed the Frisbee again and again and the dog's enthusiasm and fervour slowly worked its magic until the seizure was forgotten and Tony was once again enjoying his time at the park.

"Don't forget the ducks," Gibbs said, as Tony hurled the Frisbee as far as he could and watched the excited dog give chase.

Tony turned to look at Faith.

"Wanna feed the ducks with us, Commander?" he asked.

"Sure," she replied. "But only if you call me Faith."

The boy looked to Gibbs for permission and received a nod of approval.

"Okay, Faith," he smiled. "Do you want white bread or brown?"

"I don't think it matters," she laughed.

"It does to the ducks," he told her. "Just so you know, I'm conducting an experiment on the eating habits of ducks and I found-"

"Tony," Gibbs said, cutting him off before the long-winded 'white duck, white bread" theory began again. "Just give her the bread.

The mischievous grin that flashed in the Gunny's direction left him certain that the kid was quickly learning how to push his buttons.

"You can have some of both," Tony told the commander as Kort returned the Frisbee for another toss.

After devouring their bread feast, the ducks began to disburse and Tony watched in angst as his wayward throw of the Frisbee landed right in the middle of the pond. Mere seconds later he threw his head back and laughed in delight as the 85-pound dog launched into the water in pursuit, creating a tsunami size wave that sent the ducks in every direction. With the Frisbee held firmly in his teeth, Kort swam back to the shore and climbed onto the bank.

"Oh no," Faith exclaimed.

The warning came too late as the dog shook the excess water from his coat and showered them all in the process. Tony's laugh was infectious and Gibbs mouthed a silent "thank you," in Faith's direction, receiving a smile in return.

"Kids and dogs," she shrugged. "You gotta love them."

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The excited chatter from the rear seat of the bicycle stopped only long enough for the kid to draw breath and start again. Monkey bars, swings, ducks and a one-eyed dog named Kort all featured prominently in a soliloquy that lasted all the way home. But, when the excitement waned and fatigue set it the kid crashed before he'd finished his dinner. Gibbs carried the boy into his room, attended to his bathroom needs, poured him into his pyjamas and under the covers. He double-checked the seizure alert equipment, dimmed the light and headed for the door.

"Gibbs?" the soft voice said.

"Thought you were asleep," the Gunny said as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"I had fun today," Tony whispered, more asleep than awake.

"I kinda got that," Gibbs grinned.

"Can we do it again one day?" he asked sleepily.

Gibbs brushed the bangs back from the boy's face and leaned in to place a kiss on his forehead.

"You bet," he whispered as a small smile formed on the boy's lips and sleep took him away.

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Gibbs switched on the front porch light when he heard the familiar purr of Ducky's Morgan in his driveway. Opening the front door he waited as the ME climbed out of his car and headed his way.

"Good evening, Jethro," Ducky greeted cordially. "I do apologise for arriving unannounced."

"Welcome anytime, Duck," Gibbs said, gesturing the man into the living room.

"Is Anthony still up?" Ducky asked. "I have a copy of Oliver Twist that I thought he might enjoy reading."

"He's out like a light," Gibbs replied with a grin. "He had a big day at the park."

"Oh dear, I really should have called first."

"Coffee's hot and I can use the company. Make yourself comfortable," Gibbs said, disappearing into the kitchen.

Ducky took a seat on the couch and glanced around at the subtle changes that had transformed the sparsely furnished residence into a family home. He was particularly pleased to see the large framed photograph of Shannon and Kelly, now situated on the sideboard. After burying his grief and heartbreak for too many years, Gibbs finally understood that he couldn't teach the boy to deal with grief and loss without first dealing with own. There was a lot of healing going on in this home…and not all of it was Tony's.

Gibbs returned to the living room juggling coffee, a small pot of tea and several cookies on a plate.

"Peanut butter and coconut," Gibbs said taking a bite and shrugging one shoulder. "They’re Keto but they’re not bad."

Ducky couldn't help but notice the change in the former Marine. Despite the major upheaval to his life Gibbs appeared relaxed and content.

"Tell me, Jethro, how are you and Anthony managing?"

Gibbs took a mouthful of coffee as he contemplated the answer.

"Hasn't been easy, especially for Tony, but we're getting there. He's a good kid, Duck. He's bright, funny…tough as any Marine I've ever known."

Gibbs' eyes softened when he spoke about the boy and Ducky grinned knowingly.

"I must say, old friend, it looks good on you," the ME said.

"What does?

"Fatherhood."

The corner of Gibbs' mouth twitched in a smile.

"Feels good, Duck."

As they drank their beverages, the men chatted casually about the gradual emergence of Tony's personality. Gibbs recounted the kid's initial disappointment when his "white bread, white duck, brown bread, brown duck," theory had been confounded. But, not easily put off, Tony decided to continue his research on their next trip to the park, in case he had been the victim of some feathered-fowl conspiracy.

"Oh my," Ducky chuckled, "the lad certainly has a most active imagination. You will have your hands full, my friend."

"Ya got that right," Gibbs replied, as Ducky's smile faded. "Something on your mind, Duck?"

"Jethro, I've just come from a meeting with Alistair Chambers," he said.

"Tony's family solicitor."

The ME nodded his head.

"There is growing interest from several development companies wishing to purchase Anthony's family home."

"They wanna knock it down?"

"It's a sizeable portion of land in a prestigious location. There have been some very generous offers made; any one of which would ensure the lad has a very, very comfortable life. Has Anthony ever spoken of his former home?"

"Nope."

"As joint trustees of Anthony's inheritance, Alistair and I will do whatever we think is in the boy's best interest, however, it would be helpful if we knew how the lad feels about the house."

"I'll talk to him."

"And what about your future, Jethro?"

"Mine?"

"The director seems to believe that you will be returning to your position on the MCRT," Ducky said. "As you cannot draw your pension until you have officially retired, I imagine your personal savings have taken a considerable pounding."

"Money well spent, Duck."

"Undoubtedly," Ducky agreed. "Anthony has a sizeable inheritance that is already covering his medical needs. But Alistair and I believe it is only right that the trust fund also covers the considerable costs incurred adapting your home to the boy's needs."

"There's no need."

"Perhaps, but it is the right thing to do. You know, Jethro-"

The strident pitch of the seizure alert sounded from the small portable monitor on the coffee table. But it was the chilling sound of the boy's scream that launched Gibbs from the couch and up the hall before he knew he was moving. The instant the boy screamed, the Gunny knew this wasn't a seizure. There had been numerous occasions when vivid and terrifying nightmares had left Tony wild-eyed, distraught and crying out for his parents. But this wasn't a scream of fright; it was one of pain.

"Gibbs! Gibbs!" Tony cried.

Gibbs burst through the door of the boy's room to see Tony writhing in pain on his bed.

"Tony!"

"It hurts, Gibbs, it hurts!" Tony sobbed.

"What hurts, Sport?" Gibbs said, trying to hold the boy still as he twisted and threshed out of his grasp. "Tell me what hurts?"

"Jethro?" Ducky asked, moving quickly to his side.

"He's in pain, Duck," Gibbs replied tersely while struggling to hold Tony. "I don't know why."

"Let me see him," Ducky said, shouldering the other man aside as he reached for the boy. "Anthony? Anthony, listen to me. You must tell me where the pain is so I can help you."

"Here!" Tony cried, his face contorted in agony. "It hurts here!"

The boy clawed at his left thigh and Ducky shifted his hands to feel the tell-tale signs of seriously contracted muscles. Immediately, he began to knead the painful muscle spasm with deft fingers as Tony cried louder as he tried to bat the doctor's hands away.

"Ow, ow, ow, owwwww! Make him stop, Gibbs! Make him stop!"

Gibbs held the boy tightly, his heart threatening to burst from his chest.

"Duck?"

"Jethro, I need heat packs, the instant kind if you have them," Ducky directed sharply as he continued to massage Tony's thigh. "And any muscle relaxant medication Anthony has."

Gibbs cursed his own futility as he looked at Tony's tear-stained face, twisted in distress and torment.

"Now, Jethro!" Ducky snapped. "Go now!"

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Gibbs placed a kiss on the boy's sweaty temple and fell heavily into the chair beside the bed. Leaning forward he rested his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his hands.

"Is he asleep?" Ducky asked softly as the returned from the kitchen with a mug of coffee.

"Yeah," Gibbs replied, scrubbing his face with his hands.

"The medication should see him sleep until morning," Ducky said, handing the steaming mug to Gibbs.

Tony stirred in his sleep and Gibbs gently carded his fingers through the sweaty-blonde hair until the boy settled.

"Shoulda seen him at the park today, Duck," Gibbs said softly. "Happy, laughing…being a kid."

"I spoke to Doctor McNally. He's made an appointment for Anthony to have an MRI first thing in the morning."

"What do you think it is?"

"Traumatic spinal injuries are very complex and no two are the same," Ducky explained.

"Come on, Duck!" Gibbs growled.

"Really, Jethro, you should wait for the results of the MRI. I don't wish to give you or Anthony any false hope."

"Any hope's good hope, Duck," the Gunny said, brushing the bangs back from the sleeping boy's face.

Ducky sighed loudly.

"This may have been a one off incident that will never happen again," he said.

"Or?"

"Or…it could have been the initial stages of Anthony regaining the use of his legs."

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	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started to write this series, it was really important to me that I portray little Tony's medical conditions as accurately and respectfully as I possibly could while, hopefully, delivering an interesting and moving story. It was also my intention that Tony get an assistance dog. Apologies to those hoping for a miracle-cure for Tony – while he will eventually conquer his health issues, I still have many ideas for future Tony and Gibbs adventures and storylines and I hope you will join me for those.

Trapping his cell between his shoulder and his chin, Gibbs poured a cup of freshly brewed coffee and leaned wearily against the kitchen counter. He scrubbed his face with one hand, feeling the roughness of his unshaven jaw. Although it was only 7pm, the house was disturbingly dark and silent; reminiscent of a time when the Gunny lived alone with his sorrow and heartache.

"Where is he now?" Jackson asked.

"In his room," Gibbs replied. "I was just gonna check on him."

"I'll wait."

Placing the cell on the kitchen counter, Gibbs walked quietly up the hall to Tony's room and saw the boy sprawled across his bed, sound asleep. The young face was still blotchy and tear-stained from the altercation that still clawed at the former Marine's heart. Had he overreacted? Was he too harsh? Should he have tried to reason with the kid rather than leaving him in his room to cry himself out?

The severe muscle cramps Tony had experienced in his legs two weeks ago had been diagnosed as neurogenic pain and stemmed from damage to the nerves in and around the boy's spinal cord. A marginal reduction in the swelling compressing Tony's spinal cord had caused the nerves and muscles in his legs to contract painfully.

Despite Doctor McNally's cautious optimism, the reduction in swelling was a particularly hopeful sign. But the former Marine was under no illusion that a miracle cure was waiting just around the corner; Tony had been badly injured and real life rarely had fairy tale endings. But Gibbs had already seen this tenacious little boy endure so much - as long as there was any chance at all, he'd put his money on DiNozzo.

Wandering back to the kitchen he took another mouthful of hot coffee and picked up his cell.

"Still sleeping," he told his father.

"He obviously needs the rest," Jack told him.

"He missed dinner. It'll mess with his Keto diet."

"You can make it up tomorrow. He's not the first kid to go to bed without his supper and he won't be the last."

Jack frowned at the silence on the end of the line. His son was never a big talker but he could tell Leroy had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"You called me, Son," he said. "What's on your mind?"

Gibbs released a heavy sigh that traveled from his boot tops. He was known as a man of few words – concise and straight to the point - vbut he was worried about Tony and for the first time since he was fifteen years old, he needed to share his concern with his father.

He started slowly…explaining how the easy-going kid had become more and more frustrated by the restrictions of his condition. Tony had a streak of independence a mile wide and it exasperated and angered him that he needed help to accomplish the simplest of tasks. As Tony's physical therapist Ziva's role in the boy's recovery was vitally important. But of equal bearing was rehabilitation – helping Tony regain the most independent level of functioning possible. He had worked hard at his fitness sessions to improve his upper body strength and he could now manoeuvre his wheelchair for short distances, without needing assistance.

"I don't understand, Son. Isn't that what we want for him?" Jack asked.

"It's not the mobility, Dad," Gibbs said, struggling to find the right words. "The more mobile he gets, the more reckless he becomes. Kid takes short cuts, thinks he's indestructible."

Jackson huffed a laugh.

"Leroy, the boy's in a wheelchair. How much trouble can he get into?"

Gibbs dropped wearily into a chair and began to tell his father of the events of the last few days.

_FLASHBACK_

_As part of Tony's rehabilitation process, Ziva had taught the boy how to detach the sides of his wheelchair and lift himself onto a chair. Tony was delighted with the small step toward independence and constantly practised transferring from his wheelchair to the couch; the two armchairs; all of the dining room chairs and his lowered bed. It wasn't long before he had the technique nailed but as his confidence grew so, too, did his bravado._

_Having successfully shifted his skinny butt from the wheelchair to all six dining chairs and back again, Tony was on his second circuit of the living room when Gibbs looked up from his newspaper. The kid moved on to the next seat and the Gunny shook his head at Tony's dogged determination. Musical chairs continued for another fifteen minutes until the former Marine was at the end of his patience._

" _Keep that up you'll wear a hole in the seat of your pants," Gibbs said._

_Tony scowled._

" _Ziva said if I want to get better at this, I have to practise."_

" _Pick a chair and sit in it," Gibbs told him. "You're done practising for tonight."_

" _But Gibbs, I -"_

_Despite repeated warnings about applying the brakes on his wheelchair, the inevitable happened. With a loud crash the chair skidded out from under him and the boy was deposited to the floor in a crumpled heap. Although the kid was unhurt, Gibbs felt several more hairs turn grey as Tony looked up through long eyelashes and sheepishly flashed the dimples that framed his Hollywood grin._

"Now  _I'm done," he quipped._

_END FLASHBACK_

Jackson chuckled as he imagined the look on the boy's impish face.

"That's not so bad," he said. "You've told me yourself that the kid's tough as old boots."

Gibbs shook his head silently before citing another example.

_FLASHBACK_

_The boy was watching one of his movies in the living room while Gibbs prepared their lunch in the kitchen. The sound of a dog barking several houses away caught the boy's attention and he looked out the window to see what was causing the ruckus. His eyes lit up when he saw the USPS van slowly making its way down the street. Arnie Johnson was a portly man who had been delivering mail in this neighbourhood for over twenty years. He always greeted Tony and Gibbs with a friendly smile and an ever-hopeful word about his beloved Washington Wizards._

_Tony wheeled his chair to the front door and, finding it ajar, pushed it open wide enough to squeeze his chair through. He eyed the ramp warily at first then, with a deep breath, he pushed the chair forward and hung on tight as it picked up speed. The chair hit the bottom of the ramp and continued along the level path until it had slowed enough for Tony to regain control and steer it toward the mailbox._

" _Hi Mister Johnson," he said brightly._

" _Well hello there, Tony," the mail carrier replied._

" _I've been waiting for you," the boy told him. "Guess what?"_

" _Hmm, let's see…you're running away to join the circus."_

" _Nooo," Tony laughed. "I'm going to watch the Wizards play the Grizzlies tomorrow night."_

" _You don't say," the man said, sharing Tony's delight._

" _Director Vance, that's Gibbs boss, he's got tickets for him and Jared and me and Gibbs. It's only a pre-season game but I've never been to real game before - it's gonna be crazy good!"_

" _I'll be watching the game from home so, if you see yourself on the big screen, make sure you give me a big ol' wave."_

" _I will," the boy nodded. "Do you have any mail for us today?"_

" _I have one for Agent Gibbs," he said, handing Tony a single envelope. "Looks kind of important…but I think I can trust you to make sure he gets it."_

" _I'll take it to him right now," Tony said earnestly. "Bye, Mister Johnson."_

_As the mail carrier went happily on his way, Tony wheeled himself back down the path to the foot of the ramp. Getting down had been relatively easy – a little scary but fun. But from where he sat the gentle slope now looked like Mount Kilimanjaro. Tucking the letter into his shirt, he used both hands to ease himself painstakingly up the ramp. He was almost at the top when he pulled on the brake to catch his breath._

_After taking a few deep breaths, Tony released the brake and gasped loudly as the chair rolled quickly back down the ramp in reverse. Unable to slow his descent, the boy tensed as the chair slid sideways; the left-side wheels hit the bottom of the handrail and abruptly stopped. The chair lurched backward and Tony was thrown heavily onto the path._

_He laid there for a moment, listening to his heartbeat pounding like a jackhammer. A familiar voice called his name and, suddenly, Gibbs was there; rushing down the ramp and hurdling the fallen wheelchair to kneel beside him. The man's strong hands held either side of his face as he frantically checked the boy for injuries._

" _Tony, talk to me…are you hurt?"_

_The boy blinked his eyes rapidly and then, with a crooked smile, he held up a crumpled envelope._

" _You got mail, Gibbs."_

_END FLASHBACK_

"You think this is funny, Dad?" Gibbs said as his father's raucous laughter echoed through the cell.

Jackson cleared his throat and tried to contain his laughter.

"Sorry, Son" he gulped, not sounding very contrite. "Was he hurt?"

"Couple of grazed elbows," Gibbs muttered, "but that's not the point. The kid doesn't see the danger until he's in the damn thick of it."

"He's a boy, Leroy! It goes with the territory," Jack said. "Relax, after a scare like that, I reckon he's learned his lesson."

"Ya think?" Gibbs replied.

_FLASHBACK_

_Tony had been much more accepting of the standing frame since McGee had likened it to a Transformer. Gibbs had added the push-rims and casters that allowed him mobility around the house and with the apparatus in the standing position, the boy could now take himself to the bathroom and use the hand basin without suffering the indignity of having someone help him._

_With the boy in his standing frame finishing his homework, Gibbs attended to some household chores. As the Gunny carried a basket of wet laundry to the clothesline, the house phone rang. Placing the basket on the outdoor table, he re-entered the house to take the call. It was several moments before he returned to the landing and his heart skipped a beat when he saw the kid, now juggling the heavy basket of wet laundry and teetering at the top of the ramp in his standing frame._

" _Stop right there," Gibbs barked._

_Startled by the harsh tone, the boy's head spun toward him. The washing basket slipped from his grasp and landed upside down in the dirt below. The Gunny reached the standing frame with two large steps and hauled it away from the ramp._

" _What the heck are you doing?" Gibbs asked loudly._

" _I'm helping you," Tony replied, with hurt-filled eyes._

" _By breaking your neck?"_

" _I was taking the washing to the clothesline."_

" _How'd that work out?" Gibbs said, pointing at the upturned basket._

" _You made me drop it when you yelled!" the boy said unrepentantly._

_Gibbs took a few calming breaths and lowered his voice but his heart was still racing and the terrifying vision of what might have happened, replayed over and over in his mind._

" _We've been through this before, Sport. The standing frame stays in the house. You could have been badly hurt."_

" _But I wasn't!" Tony replied, squaring his shoulders and jutting out his chin stubbornly._

" _Tony, you can't-"_

" _I can! You don't let me do anything, you treat me like a baby!"_

_Gibbs frowned as the boy's bottom lip trembled and he swiped angrily at his traitorous tears._

" _I can do things myself, why won't you let me?" he sobbed. "Why don't you let me?"_

_The boy hid his face in his hands and wept – silent, contained sobs that racked his small frame._

_The Gunny let the boy cry, knowing he needed the release; he unbuckled him from the standing frame and carried him into his bedroom. Laying the limp form on his bed, he removed Tony's leg braces and shoes before covering him with a quilt. Emotionally exhausted, Tony closed his eyes and turned his face into the pillow; his sobs had calmed and were replaced by frequent hiccuping breaths. Switching on the seizure-alert monitor, he leaned in to place a kiss on the boy's sweaty forehead._

" _Get some rest, Sport," Gibbs whispered. "We'll talk later."_

_END FLASHBACK_

The silence on the other end of the line spoke more eloquently than words. After a moment, Jackson cleared his throat of emotion.

"Knowing what that child's been carrying inside him all these months, I can't say I'm surprised. How you gonna handle it?"

"Gonna cuff him to the couch til he's thirty," Gibbs quipped and then sighed audibly. "You got any ideas?"

"Seems to me the boy already told you what the problem is," Jack said. "He told you he wants to do things...I say you let him do them. Give him some chores; something that makes him feel like he's contributing. Tony's got some special needs but he's still a kid; we're all guilty of mollycoddling him."

"Some more than others," Gibbs muttered pointedly.

"Talk to him, Son, you'll know what to say."

Bidding his father goodnight, Gibbs walked down the hall to Tony's room and moved silently to the boy's side as he moved restlessly in his sleep. Carding his fingers gently through Tony's fine blonde hair, he grinned as the bleary green eyes cracked opened.

"Gibbs?"

"Right here, Sport."

"I'm sorry I was bad," he said, knuckling his eyes.

"Frustrated maybe, angry…but not bad."

"It was bad to yell at you."

"People do things they don't mean when they're angry or scared," the Gunny offered.

"Were you angry?"

"Nope, I was scared, Sport. Scared you'd get hurt."

The boy looked down at his wringing hands.

"You always help me, Gibbs, I just wanted to help you back."

Gibbs slipped two fingers under the boy's chin and tilted his head until their eyes met.

"You do help me, Tony."

"I do?"

"More than you'll ever know," the man said, emotion colouring his voice.

"I can do things, Gibbs. I wanna help more."

The former Marine bit back a grin at the kid's determination.

"Could give you some chores? Something you can do by yourself without breaking your neck."

"Really? I can have chores like a normal kid?"

The words stabbed at Gibbs' heart like a dagger as he adjusted the covers.

"Yeah, Sport…just like a normal kid."

Gibbs dropped a kiss on the tussled blond head.

"Hit the rack," he said as the checked the monitor again. "We got a big day tomorrow."

"Gibbs?"

"Tony."

The boy chewed his lower lip anxiously.

"Are we still going to the game tomorrow?"

"Director's expecting us," the man said. "Don't wanna stick him with the tickets."

The boy's smile lit up the dim room as his snuggled under the covers. Gibbs almost made it to the door when Tony called his name again.

"Gibbs?"

"Tony."

"Thanks for taking care of me."

The former bad-ass Marine and the scourge of NCIS felt his heart flutter. Turning on his heel he walked back to the bed and drew the boy close. The lesson of the day was loud and clear, if he was going to keep this boy in one piece, he was going to have to grow eyes in the back of his head. He suppressed the urge to hug the stuffing out of the kid and pulled up the covers for the third time that night.

"Sleep tight, Sport."

The next morning over breakfast, Tony and Gibbs devised a set of chores that Tony could do to help Gibbs around the house. As the boy was able to reach the kitchen counters when he was in his standing frame, the first chores he was assigned was setting and clearing the table at meal times and drying the dishes. He was also happy to help unpack the groceries, sort and fold the clean laundry and to keep the living room and his bedroom tidy. Due to Tony's epilepsy, anything involving hot water or electric appliances, such as cooking or ironing, could only be done under Gibbs' close supervision.

"Give me more, Gibbs," Tony stated. "I can do more."

"You got therapy with Ziva every morning, plus home schooling and homework. You're doing enough, Sport."

"Are you sure?"

"I’m sure," Gibbs said checking his watch. "Better get you dressed unless you want Ziva to see you in your shorts."

The man bit back a grin as the boy did a comical double-take and wheeled his chair as quickly as he could in the direction of his bedroom.

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A budget meeting that ran overtime meant that they had arrived at the stadium just five minutes before game time. Although not a capacity crowd, the anticipation and excitement was palpable.

"Wow!" Tony whispered reverently, twisting in his chair trying to take in the whole stadium.

Vance gave the tickets to the young usher, resplendent in a Wizards jersey.

"This way folks," she said, setting off for the stairs. Stopping suddenly she glanced at Tony's wheelchair. "Oh…I'm sorry, you'll have to go back out to the foyer and follow the wheelchair signs to the elevator. You can access the lower levels from there."

"Dad, we're gonna miss the tip off," Jared said.

"Maybe not," the director said turning to Tony. "What do you say, Slugger? You wanna take the elevator or you wanna live dangerously?"

Tony looked at Gibbs and received a nod of approval.

"Live dangerously," he grinned, leaning forward and allowing the director to lift him from the chair.

"You drop him, you face Kate and Abby alone," Gibbs warned as he collapsed the chair.

Looping one arm around Jared's shoulders, Gibbs nodded his readiness to the usher and followed them down the stairs to their seats.

"Court-side, Leon?" he asked as the boys vibrated with excitement.

"SecNav picked up the tab personally. I think he's still hoping I can talk you into coming back to work." Vance held up his hand to ward off Gibbs' objection. "Take it easy, we're here to enjoy the game, that's all."

They stood for the National Anthem and then settled into their seats as the teams took the court. The boys sat together during the game, chattering and cheering wildly. Jared shared Tony's love of sport and, although he was three years older, the two got along famously. During the halftime break, Vance and Gibbs talked quietly together as the boys laughed at the crazy dancing and trick shots of the team mascots.

"So…Agent Gibbs is your guardian, right?" Jared asked.

"Gibbs is my foster dad."

"Is he going to adopt you?"

"I don't know," Tony replied.

"I hope he does."

"Really?" Tony asked. "Why?"

"Cause adoption is permanent, fostering means they can give you back."

"Give me back?"

"Sure…there was a kid in my class last year who was a foster kid. He had allergies and his guardians said he was too much trouble and they sent him back to the children's home. They can't do that if you're adopted."

Tony frowned deeply.

"Gibbs wouldn't send me back," he said firmly. "He's a Marine and Marines don't leave anyone behind."

"I'm glad…hey, maybe we can go to another game sometime," Jared's attention was grabbed by the acrobatic mascot. "Whoa! Did you see that, Tony? That was the best dunk shot  _ever_!"

Tony froze, scarcely able to breathe. Jared's words replayed over and over in his head. What would he do if Gibbs decided that he was too much trouble? Where would he go?

"You okay, Sport?" Gibbs asked, startling the boy from his thoughts. He frowned at the pale face and the hint of tears in the boy's eyes.

Tony nodded emphatically, pasted on an over-bright smile that triggered a feeling of foreboding in the Gunny's infamous gut.

"Tony, you've gotta see this," Jared said, drawing the boy's attention back to the game.

Gibbs continued to watch him and relaxed when the boys laughed at the antics of the mascots.

"Something wrong?" Vance asked.

"Nope…everything's fine."

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Gibbs trapped the cell between his chin and shoulder as he wiped the last of the dishes.

"You can't have it both ways, Leroy,” Jack said. “First you tell me you worried that the boy's too reckless and now you're saying he's too quiet.”

"Something's wrong, Dad," Gibbs told him.

"Well, have you asked him?"

"Course I asked him," the agent answered tersely. "Says he's fine."

"But you don't believe him," Jack stated. "What's got you so worried?"

"Don't know exactly. It's like he's walking on eggshells."

Gibbs had noticed a dramatic change in Tony since the basketball game. The boy was quiet and polite; he did his chores and his homework without protest; he didn't ask to stay up past his bedtime or to stay longer at the park. The mischievous sparkle in his green eyes, his cheeky grin and the flash of dimples was missing and Gibbs was desperate to get them back.

"You think he's sick?" Jack asked.

"Called the hospital; had them double check his blood tests. Everything looked fine."

"Where is he now?"

"In his room. He's doing his homework."

"I'll be down for Thanksgiving in a few days, want me to come earlier?"

"Nah...I'll take him to the park…maybe he'll open up."

"Let me know."

"I will…and Dad? Thanks."

Placing his cell in his pocket, Gibbs called down the hall to Tony's room.

"Hey, Sport, let's go feed the ducks."

He frowned at the answering silence.

"Tony?"

As he strode quickly to the boy's room, the feeling of foreboding in the pit of the Gunny's gut, exploded into unbridled fear as he saw Tony seizing on the floor. Fear gave way to training as Gibbs kneeled beside the boy and gently moved him into the recovery position.

"I'm here, Sport," he said, the calmness of his voice belying the pounding of his heart. "It's a big one this time but I'm right here with ya. Not going anywhere, I'm right here."

Brushing the blonde hair from Tony's face, he winced as he felt the egg size bump on the back of his head. After a few moments the seizure started to subside and Tony's rigid body relaxed. Murmuring inanities, Gibbs drew the exhausted boy into his arms and instinctively began to rock in the age-old comforting motion. He eased his cell from his pocket and pressed the speed dial.

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Closing his medical bag, Doctor McNally gestured for Gibbs to follow him from the room.

"He should sleep for a while but he's fine," the doctor said. "Despite the nasty bump on the back of his head there's no sign of concussion. He's one tough kid."

"You got that right," Gibbs said.

"He has an appointment with me on Friday, right?"

Gibbs nodded.

"I'm sure he's okay but bring him in tomorrow and we'll do a few scans, see what's going on in that noggin. In the meantime, if you're worried about anything – you have my number."

"Thanks for coming, Doc."

Gibbs saw the doctor to the door and walked back to Tony's room. In the dim light, he looked at the boy's pale face and the sprinkling of tiny freckles that covered his nose.

"Ya killing me, DiNozzo," he whispered, cupping his hand to Tony's face and checking for a fever that didn't exist.

How long had the kid convulsed uncontrollably before Gibbs found him? He was sickened at the thought of Tony, alone and frightened. Memories of the numerous discussions held with Abby, Ducky and the DiNozzo family solicitor, Alistair Chambers crowded his mind. Reluctantly, he accepted what others had said all along – he could be the boy's guardian but he couldn't care for Tony alone. Worst of all, his reluctance to accept that could have cost the boy his life.

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Slowly and serenely, Tony began to emerge from the depths of a deep sleep. He felt warm and comfortable and was in no hurry to wake up. He shifted slightly in his bed and felt an ache from the back of his head. Concentrating his thoughts he remembered falling and knew he'd had another seizure. The fogginess in his head cleared slightly and he recognised his foster father's voice. Still too weary to wake up, he allowed himself to relax knowing that if Gibbs was with him, everything was okay.

Gibbs stood looking out the large window in Tony's room, speaking softly into his cell and throwing occasion glances over his shoulder to check on Tony.

"I understand it's short notice, Alistair," Gibbs said quietly. "Lately I can't take my eyes off the kid without something happening."

Caught between sleep and wakefulness, Tony frowned. Alistair was the name of his father's solicitor. He had helped Gibbs get custody of Tony. He knew he shouldn't listen but he couldn't help it.

"Think they'll take him?"

Tony's heart began to pound and Jared's words rushed back into his mind. ' _Adoption is permanent, fostering means they can give you back.'_ His headache pounded and he tried to stay calm as Gibbs continued.

"How soon can you arrange a meeting? No, the sooner the better…I appreciate your help."

Tony could hardly breathe. He screwed his eyes tightly closed and turned his face to the wall. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth in an effort not to cry. He didn't want to leave; he liked it here…this was his home. He had tried his best to be good, especially after what Jared had told him, but the grand mal seizure had been the last straw and now Gibbs was sending him away. He tried to tell himself that it didn't matter; that there would be someone else out there who would want to look after him. But the truth was, he didn't want anyone else, he wanted Gibbs.

"Tony?" Gibbs said gently. "You awake, Sport?"

The Gunny's voice startled him and his almost jumped out of his skin.

"S'just me," Gibbs said, placing his hand on Tony's shoulder. "You feelin' okay?"

Unable to find his voice, they boy nodded.

"We need to talk," the man told him. "Man to man."

Propping the pillows behind Tony's back, he helped the boy to sit up straight

"You know I only want what's best for you, right?"

Tony felt the prick of tears forming in his eyes and he straightened his slim shoulders. He tried to be brave like his father: he had never seen his Dad cry, not even when his Mom had died. The thought of his parents was almost his undoing but her forced all expression from his face and waited for Gibbs to speak again.

"I shoulda been here when you had your seizure. You were alone…you could've been-" Gibbs ordered the thought from his mind. "I just shoulda been here."

"Took me a while to realise but, fact is, Sport, I can't be with you 24/7. There's a real nice place, not far from here, and I think-"

A small gasp escaped and Tony's resolve crumbled. His chin began to quiver and two crystal tears slipped down his pale cheeks.

"Tony?"

Catching Gibbs my surprise, the boy threw himself forward and wrapped his skinny arms tightly around the former Marine's neck. He turned his face into the crook of the man's neck and sobbed.

"I'm sorry, Gibbs. I couldn't help it…I didn't mean to be so much trouble. Please don't…please don't send me away."

"Send you away?" Gibbs repeated, holding the boy's heaving body. "Tony? Tony…listen to me. Are you listening?"

"I'm liss..I'm listening, Gibbs," the boy said, still holding tightly to the Marine.

"You and I are in this together," he said, "No matter what, we got each others backs. You got that?"

"I gotcha, Gibbs."

"Good," the Gunny said. "I'm not sending you away…I'm going with you."

The boy stilled in his arms and for a brief moment Gibbs thought he might have been having an absence seizure. But after a long moment, he pulled back and looked at Gibbs with a mixture of despair and confusion on his face.

"You're…you're coming with me?"

"Yep."

"Where are we going?"

Grabbing a fistful of Kleenex, Gibbs wiped the boy's face and propped him back against the pillows. Sitting on the bed, he produced a brochure from his back pocket and handed it to Tony.

"Here," he said.

Tony looked at the brochure and his face wrinkled in confusion. The front cover featured several Labradors, all wearing the blue vests of service dogs.

"Gibbs, this is a dog school," Tony exclaimed.

The Gunny opened the brochure and pointed to the photos showing some of the tasks a service dog performs. The kid nearly flipped when he saw an image of a large black Labrador opening a door for a woman in a wheelchair and another of a honey-coloured dog standing on its hind legs to switch on a light with his paws. Gibbs explained that the school had considerable success training "seizure dogs" that are trained to bark an alert if a child is having a seizure.

"Wow," Tony said, totally awestruck. "How do they do that, Gibbs?"

"Lots of training, Sport," Gibbs said.

"But why are we going to a dog school?"

"If you're gonna get a new dog, we gotta talk to some people."

Gibbs grinned as Tony's jaw hung open and he blinked rapidly as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I'm…I'm getting a dog?"

"If you don't want one, I'm sure that-"

"I do, Gibbs, I do want one!" Tony exclaimed, almost vibrating with excitement. "Which one is he? Is it that one or the one that turns on the lights or is it the black one? He looks nice Gibbs, doesn't he? I wonder what his name is…maybe he'll be a girl dog. Can we take him to the park, Gibbs? Maybe he'd like to play with Kort. We have to call Grandpa Jack and tell him we're getting a dog…"

Gibbs let the boy chatter excitedly, thrilled to see the spark return to the green eyes. He shook his head and marveled at how much his life had changed since he'd taken this little boy into his home and into his heart. He wasn't really sure what new adventures they would face together…but he was looking forward to finding out.

The End

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, so much, for your support. Please feel free to let me know what you thought. SMcG

**Author's Note:**

> Italics represent an excerpt from Mark Twain's novel The Adventures of Tom Sawyer.


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